Sea Dogs
by RhapsodyinB
Summary: Thomas is a young admirer of John Smith, but what was John like when he was Thomas' age? John shares his experiences on life.
1. Prologue

(Disclaimer: All rights to characters from Pocahontas belong to Disney. The following is not a factual representation of any historic characters or events.)

Prologue

_Spring, 1607_

"I've seen hundreds of new worlds, Thomas. What could possibly be different about this one?"

Thomas was still shivering at the thought of nearly meeting his end...that is until the courageous comrade rescued him. He sat there for a few moments after he asked John about the New World. Captain John Smith seemed to have enough experience under his belt, that the thought of a "new" world didn't phase him at all. He wondered why a man perhaps a decade his elder could make such a statement, yet think it worthwhile to save him in the first place?

"John, why did you dive in after me? Why not let me drown in my ignorance?"

"Perhaps you reminded me of someone I once knew, or was. I was a foolish lad myself, once." He chuckled, in recollection. "And it wasn't until men that I greatly admired showed me a thing or two about life, did I become the man I am now... ."

—


	2. To Market

I. To Market

_Autumn, 1595_

As far back as can I remember, while growing up in the countryside, I have always wanted to be an adventurer: dreaming of new words, new people, new life I had yet to discover. At that time, my straw-colored hair was perhaps a bit longer, though my eyes were just as blue as now. Since turning fifteen earlier that year, I went from being known as "Scrawny Johnny," to "Long John." Despite my lean build, I had a strong set of arms and legs from my years of plowing and chasing after animals on the family farm. Such were the days when my boyhood friend Daniel Graves, who I often referred to as "Danny," would often be fighting with sticks, pretending to be knights, in Mablethorpe off the Lincolnshire shoreline.

"Avast, ye scurvy swab!"

"Never!" My dark-haired, lanky friend managed to knock me on the ground with the stick on my neck. "Alright, Danny, alright." I put up my hands. He lent one hand to help me up, but instead I pulled him down with me.

"Johnny, you cheat!"

"I never actually said, 'I surrender,'" I teased. We both laughed, knowing it was like ourselves to play tricks on each other.

We both relaxed for a moment, our arms behind our heads. "I can't believe you talked me into leaving school early to come here, again."

"Would you have rather stayed in arithmetic, than miss one of the last mild days of the season?"

"Not really," he admitted. "Though I normally strive for perfect attendance."

"Come now, Danny. A few days aren't going to ruin you. I'm surprised anyone can stay in classes for such long periods of time." I was an average student, who knew writing, geography, history, reading and basic arithmetic. However, I never liked "sitting around" anywhere—including the classroom. Admittedly, however, my attendance wasn't as strong as Danny's... .

"Johnny, you're always so restless," he chuckled. Then Danny started getting up. "We should probably be heading toward Alford soon. 'Tis Tuesday, after all."

"Tuesday?!" I had forgotten. "Market Day." Every Tuesday, I helped my father sell produce on Alford's Market Day, the neighboring town of my home village, Willoughby. Occasionally, my younger brothers assisted, but in most cases, it was dad and I. We mounted our horses and headed to Alford as quickly as we could. I could imagine my father was already raging mad, wondering where I was.

"You're late." My brown-haired father, greeted me. His defined features, which I would eventually grow into, and perhaps his stubbornness, were about all we had in common.

"I know, dad, I'm terribly sorry. I hadn't realized the hour."

He sighed, clearly annoyed, as this wasn't the first time. He seemed as if he wanted to say more, but perhaps thought better of it. "Start stocking more of these vegetables for the stand."

While I longed for something else, I knew it was my father's expectation that I would one day take on the family farm. I complied knowing my siblings, Richard, Francis, and Alice, often looked up to me as an example; though Richard once told me, I didn't "act like an older brother," when I tried to abandon my responsibilities when I was younger.

Danny, who was working with his father at a nearby stand, whispered, "Saved you a lecture, didn't he?"

"Oh, I'll probably get it later." I was certain of that.

On the promising side, we sold a majority of our harvest. Of course, I was also discounting the price for certain customers... .

"Pardon me, how much for the parsnips and carrots?" A familiar, petite, curly-haired golden blonde, my age, asked me.

_Sarah Robinson_, I thought. "They're normally a penny a bunch, but in your case, we'll accept a half-penny a bunch."

"No bartering!" Danny joked. I punched him slightly.

"Hmm," she replied thoughtfully. "I'll suppose I'll have to purchase two bunches each, then."

"That's quite an abundance of carrots and parsnips, Miss," I teased.

"Well, perhaps if you pay me a visit, you'll discover what I'm preparing for vittles." She winked.

As she left, Danny whispered. "'Tis so obvious, Johnny. She clearly doesn't come by your stand merely for parsnips, carrots, beets, apples or whatever is in season... ."

"Of course she doesn't." I wasn't a fool. Most young ladies considered me a "pretty boy" of sorts when I was perhaps twelve; but by now, they described me as "handsome." As many interests as I had, Sarah was the most persistent. Admittedly, she was very attractive, and slender, with a face a detailed as a carved doll: fair skin, naturally reddish-pink lips and light blue eyes. As much as we played games with each other, I wasn't looking for a serious relationship at the moment. Nevertheless, all the young ladies strived for it as if it were a means of survival. Perhaps I was one of the few who thought people should marry when ready and by their own choosing, not as a convenience.

"I don't understand you, Johnny. If I had as many admirers as you, I'd certainly take the chance."

"Danny, you're too modest. You've never approached anyone lest I force you."

"I'm surprised she finds any interest in you at all, 'Long John.'" A tall, redheaded, well built young man, our own age, interrupted. It was Adam Brown, the nemesis who nicknamed me such names.

"Don't you have wares to sell?"

"I've sold all our harvest. Made quite a profit, actually. Certainly we'll make it through Spring; though I can't say for certain you'll achieve as much, considering you have less acreage."

"Shut your hole!"

I wanted to lunge toward him, but Danny stopped me. "Don't. He'll make a fool of you and he knows it." He whispered. He was right. Last time I tried to fight with Adam, he gave me a "bog wash." "Clearly Adam," Danny continued, "if you have nothing left to sell, you have no reason to be here.

"You're right," he suddenly agreed. "If you'll excuse me, there's someone I need to see."

After helping my father pack up, I noticed Sarah was still milling around with her friends. Then I saw Adam, talking with her and giving her flowers from his bountiful garden. I scowled, not knowing why I cared. Perhaps I should pay her a visit... .

Before I could say anything, dad smiled slightly with a knowing look. "Go on, I'll meet you at home."

I decided to sneak behind them. She was taken by surprise when I picked her up and carried her off, towards her carriage. "John, put me down, this instant!" I dropped her on top of a pile of straw.

I grinned at her angry expression. "You didn't say 'where,'" I teased. Before she could throw straw at me, I leaned in and kissed her. I eventually broke away, when I could hear her friends 'awing,' as well as Adam glaring in the background. I took great satisfaction in that. "Pardon me, Miss, but would you mind if I accompanied you home?" I helped her get up.

"I was hoping you'd ask." She grinned, as she began pulling me along towards the items she wanted me to take with her.

After we were halfway there, already chatting about various things, Sarah turned to me. "You know, John, we've toyed around with our feelings towards each other, for quite some time; but despite your interest, you've never... ."

I could tell where this was headed. "Well—"

"Well, what then? You are quite fond of me, are you?"

"Yes."

"Then you do intend to ask...?"

I began to wonder, what did it matter, if I formally asked, anyway? Her parents and others in town already thought we were together. Besides, if I didn't ask, Adam likely would...and I hated losing to him.

After Sarah and I became official, Danny seemed surprised I went through with it. He wasn't as enthused when I began visiting her after school, and when my plans with her interfered with Danny and mine. I hoped in time, he'd become accustomed to the changes.

My father, unfortunately, was less than thrilled, upon receiving a letter from my school, regarding my attendance.

"John Smith! What is all this about—excessive absences...tardiness...dismissing yourself early?!"

"Perhaps I missed one too many history and arithmetic classes," I replied lightheartedly.

My father wasn't laughing. "As your father, it is my responsibility to pay for a decent education, not for you to take it lightly. They're marking you for 'truancy.' By doing so, they're charging me with a penalty, and may even press further charges."

I wasn't joking anymore. "I'm terribly sorry dad. I didn't intend—"

"Is this the example you wish to set for your siblings? John, you're my eldest son. You're nearly sixteen. You ought to be taking your future into consideration."

"I have—"

"Sailing away on a ship doesn't suffice, John. How do you expect to one day marry and support a family with such an unstable position?"

"As if depending on the amount of harvest for profit provides any more stability—"

"That's enough of your smart remarks, young lad!"

_But dad, I'm not a 'young lad' anymore! I'm practically a man, now! _I wanted to insist on that. But I knew better than to speak that aloud, unless I wanted more yelling from him, or even a lashing.

"Have you considered, what would Mr. Robinson think of you courting his eldest daughter, if he discovered this? No man should consider courting anyone without a proper means of support." His solution was for me to train with Master Thomas Sendall in Lynn, one of the most respected merchants in England: A coveted position by many, but one I wasn't fond of—not that I had any choice in the matter.

Richard, who was ten at the time, was all too thrilled, it seemed. "Since you're leaving soon, can I have your bed now?"

"Francis can have it. He doesn't give me as much trouble as you." I teased.

"I can?" The blond nine-year-old stuck out his tongue at his brown-haired brother, who proceeded to fight with him.

"You can't be leaving." My six-year-old sister sobbed.

"I'm not leaving yet, Alice." I consoled the brunette, kissing her on the forehead, and hugging her. "I still have a few days, and I'll come visit." She calmed down when I swung her around in the air as I always did.

"Mum, must I go?" I pleaded with her to change dad's mind.

My mum, who's hair color and eyes I shared, was usually rational. "John, if 'twere my choice, my first born wouldn't be going anywhere," she smiled, then frowned. "But this was something your father and I went back and forth about for some time. I'm afraid your father has made up his mind." She put her hand on my shoulder. "You just remember what I have always told you."

"No matter what, I'll always be your 'Johnny Boy.'" I recalled.

"You'll find your way." Smiling again, she playfully ruffled my hair, and stood on tiptoe, kissing me on the forehead.

"Mum!" I blushed as I rubbed my forehead, but couldn't help but smile afterward. She always embarrassed me when she did that...but she was mum. She knew of my desire for adventure, and that I'd never stop until I got there.


	3. Trot, trot to London?

II. Trot, trot...to London?

_Winter, 1595-1596_

"Dad, where are we going?"

"To London, John."

For my sixteenth birthday, dad took me at least a hundred miles south of Lynn, to London. Before my apprenticeship (which I was happy to take a break from), I hadn't ventured anywhere outside of Lincolnshire. I have read about London, and always dreamed of visiting one day. I was especially impressed with watching the ships dock along the River Thames. But dad took me somewhere I never thought I'd go.

"Remember, not a word to your mother I brought you here."

"We were never here," I assured him.

We went to a local pub, called "The Pelican," in nearby Wapping. Overlooking the River, it was apparently a popular destination for seafarers between voyages. Mum typically didn't like pubs, and shunned us from going. However, dad would occasionally "go out" not saying where. (Only I knew where he was really going.) Now that dad considered me "of age," he decided he wanted me to share the experience with him. I hadn't quite experienced anything like blood pudding coupled with cold ale. The drink seemed to taste better after the first few sips.

Although in some ways, London was more brash and dirty than depicted in my readings, seeing it for the first time was in some ways better than I imagined. As dad took me around the various points of the City, I was convinced I wanted to make it back here, someday.

_Spring, 1596_

It was around this time my father suddenly passed away, due to a heart condition. I was unaware of my father had achieved ownership of the land he had rented from the Bertie noble family, until his prostate attorney informed me of his will, and his passing it on to me. In wanting to please him, a part of me felt it was my duty to take my father's place on the homestead. Unfortunately, he also left a great deal of unpaid debts which I reluctantly, had to sell away the livestock to pay off. At this point, the farm was no longer active. Feeling disappointed in my failure, I felt I was at a crossroad on what to do in my life.

It wasn't until I went out to the seaport back in Lynn, I had an unexpected arrival of a man who inspired me; a famous sea dog by the name of Captain Christopher Newport. He told me of the time he captured a Portuguese ship, _Madre de Deus_, and all the riches he and his men obtained. After leaving me a sword, helmet and musket, I began to wonder what it would be like, to live such a carefree life... . The more I thought of it, the more it appealed to me.

While finishing my master's work one evening, I had an unexpected visitor.

"John!"

No sooner had I answered a knock at the door, did a petite frame knock me onto the ground, showering me with kisses.

"Sarah, how did you get—what are you doing here?" I asked, startled and surprised, between kisses.

"I came to see you, silly-billy goat!" She stuck her tongue out before locking lips with me some more. Even I had to admit I missed these moments. Finally, we both got up and embraced. "I know we've been writing, and you visit certain weekends, ever since you came to Lynn several months ago, but 'tis merely not the same. I came in the carriage outside."

Her pale blue eyes were looking up at me now, me being nearly a foot taller. I had almost forgotten how pretty she was. Her cheeks matching her fair skin tinged to a rosy red similar to her lips, as I toyed with her curly blonde locks.

"Care to go for a ride?"

"Won't your boss mind?"

"He's out for the rest of the day. In any case, I should be closing the office soon."

I figured since she made the journey from her home in Alford, she'd appreciate a picnic. I even surprised her with a bouquet of roses. We went to the seaport after I purchased some things for us at the market. I felt it was most relaxing, watching the waves on a spring eve, feeling the sand between our toes, or sitting at the end of the dock swinging our legs as we ate. We enjoyed the moment, speaking fondly of memories, until Sarah nudged my shoulder after laying her head there for a while.

"How have you been, since... ?" She didn't even need to finish.

"My mum remarrying? Admittedly, I'd prefer to be here to be away from him." My mother had married a well-to-do merchant, mostly for means of support. I'll call him, "Mr. Daemon." But I hadn't cared for him, as he tried to convince me to sell my farm to him. I somehow thought it would be a mistake; and since telling him "no", he has not wanted me around.

"I know it must bother you, since 'twas a short while ago your father passed away."

"Well, I suppose if he makes her happy, there's nothing more to say." I wasn't so certain about that, as my mum had changed since marrying him. She typically sided with him, as if she feared making him angry. Not wanting to think of that much more, I changed the subject. "I've been thinking, about the future... ."

"Yes?" She seemed rather eager.

"I know 'twas my own father's plan for me to train with Master Sendall as a merchant, as a way of making a life for myself and whom I decide to marry, but I'm not certain this will work out."

"Is that so?"

"I think, now is high time, to pursue another passion. My real, passion of adventure."

"I see."

"The French are looking for mercenaries for their Army. I could head out to sea next month, and enlist... ." I stopped, noting how silent she had become. "What's wrong?"

"You're leaving?"

"I plan to, at least, I hope to—"

"And what of us?"

"Well, I'll certainly come back and write from time to time, whenever I can—"

"So that's all then? Nothing more? Have you ever considered what I wanted for our future—am I even in your future John? Do you not wish to marry me?"

"Well, certainly not anytime soon." After seeing her reaction, I knew I should've worded that differently. (I've never been good with words.) "What I meant to say is, we're only sixteen—"

"You won't even propose? Not even a promise someday? Do you love, me, John?"

"I—"

Her eyes began welling up with tears. "Don't—I know your response."

"But Sarah—"

"Go! I won't stand in your way!" She began turning away.

"But—"

"Don't follow me!" She pushed me backwards into the water. "And take these!" She threw the flowers in.

I climbed back on the dock, drenched, just in time to see her run into the carriage, sobbing, as it trotted away.

—

"You have no idea, Johnny, do you?" Danny asked me sometime later.

"She refuses to see me. Even her younger sister Elizabeth sticks out her tongue at me and slams the door on me."

"Johnny, did it ever occur to you she really loved you, and after traveling all that way to see you, she'd want more assurance from you that you felt the same?"

"You're right—I'm a blithering idiot."

"Let it go, 'tis over."

I also told Danny I quit my apprenticeship. He wasn't surprised.

"'Twould only be a matter of time before this would happen. I assume you'll be in touch?"

As much I wanted to follow my heart, I didn't want to lose Danny as a friend. We would sent letters back and forth; me telling Danny how I was and Danny telling me how things were going back home.

Mr. Daemon, on the other hand, was not at all pleased when I told him the news, wanting me out of his sight. My siblings seemed surprised, but I let them know they should make their own choices in life.

"Do take care of Francis and Alice," I told my brother, Richard. "You can have the rest of my things if you wish." Alice, as I expected, was taking me leaving hard, as she depended on me a great deal especially from my other brothers' taunting.

"Am I not going to see you again?"

"'Twould be a while before I return, but I'm certain I'll see you again."

Richard, was solemn and quiet, for a moment, before replying. "Alright." It looked like he would miss me.

Mum, whom I thought would be happy I was pursuing my dream, seemed solemn. "If, you're going to leave, Johnny Boy, go now—it won't be any easier." She gave me the posey ring my father bought for her, to remember her with. With a final kiss goodbye, I was on my own at this point.

France hadn't turned out as I planned. I knew very little of swordsmanship and firing guns and cannons. (Not to mention, I remembered little of their language I [was supposed to] have studied in school.) After a rather nasty brawl with a fellow soldier who I'm convinced had it in for me since the day I arrived, I was discharged and sent on my way. I tried short assignments elsewhere over the next several months, to little avail. I was fearful of turning home and looking like a failure.

Some time during my last assignment, I received news of my mother's passing. When I had made it back home, the funeral arrangements had already been made. Mr. Daemon, who had moved the family, had left me a note that my "poor actions had killed her", and I was "no longer welcome." Danny had told me she seemed more depressed after I left, and she became sorely ill. In my own time, I attempted to relocate them. They seemingly traveled a great deal for my stepfather's business.

Nevertheless, with little opportunity remaining there, I headed over to London, where I had heard a few men were heading out to sea.


	4. Georgie Porgie

III. Georgie Porgie

_Summer, 1596_

On a gloomy London morning, I breathed in the cooling air from the River Thames. I had been dreaming of this moment for years, and now, I finally had the opportunity to sail with the famed Captain Christopher Newport: the sea dog known for plundering Spanish and Portuguese fleets for their riches from the Mediterranean to the Caribbean.

"Your name, age and residence?" Asked a dark blond-haired male, about two decades older, at the sign-in sheet.

"John Smith, age sixteen, of Willoughby, Lincolnshire, Sir."

"I'm afraid you're not on the list, I can't—"

"Let 'im aboard, Martin," another man's voice called out. "It can't 'urt to 'ave ano'er set o' arms on this crew." It belonged to a tall, somewhat muscular, black-bearded male, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, with one hook for a hand.

"Very well—climb aboard." John Martin was the Second Mate. He was a watch stander, (or someone who supervised the deck crew during certain shifts), and was the chief navigator.

"Captain Christopher Newport of the one hand," I whispered. Newport was, of course, the Captain, having complete control during battle.

I climbed aboard with my few belongings: the few clothes that fit me, leftover bread, a skin filled with water, in addition to a sword, helmet, and musket which once belonged to this man.

The _Neptune_ left the dock moments later. Out on the River Thames to the English Channel we went.

There was an unusual bunch of men already on deck. Some lanky or pudgy, as well as some burly. While some were average or decent in appearance, many more were homely. Most were much older than I was. One group was carousing with their tankards full of ale. Some men were chewing a tarred, leafy, substance that stained their teeth, and spat in all directions; Others were smoking from pipes. Quite a few hadn't seemed to bathe in weeks, as the dirt on their hands and clothes suggested; The stench similar to vomit and manure was also apparent. These men were surly and unruly characters, grunting out curses as if it were regular speech; far different from my strong Catholic upbringing. I began to wonder what I had gotten myself into, as this shocked me at first. Admittedly, I secretly appreciated how carefree they were, with no rules of etiquette but their own.

"Are you Smith?" A light brown-haired man about five years older than me, interrupted my thoughts.

"Yes, Sir."

"Archer," he informed me. Gabriel Archer was the Boatswain. He supervised the crew and ship maintenance, occasionally standing watch. "I've been asked by Newport to show you around." I had the impression he did this out of obligation and thought it was a waste of his time.

This rather well-dressed young man gave me a quick once-over. For the first time, I was embarrassed by my faded tunic and well-worn breeches, compared to his well-tailored clothing, of good quality material.

After I found my place below deck, a black-haired fellow about my age, with a large nose and leaner build, kept eying me closely, which rather annoyed me. I turned to his direction. "Can I help you?"

"Are you from Willoughby?"

"I am. And you are...?"

"George Percy. Son of the late Earl Henry VIII, and brother of the present Earl Henry IX of Northumberland," he replied matter-of-factly. "My late noble father was amicable with Peregrine Bertie, Lord Willoughby. His son, Robert, whom you may have known, is actually a good friend of mine, who's told me a great deal about you."

The name "Percy" stood out to me, for some reason. It was then I recalled that family had a longstanding noble background. Apparently he was familiar with my late father's landlord, and son. While we played together as children, his father separated us as we grew older, feeling "blue bloods" should not be in the same company as "peasants." Now that he mentioned him, I wondered about his whereabouts... ? Nevertheless, since that time, I haven't been fond of blue bloods. He, decidedly, would be no exception.

"A farmer's boy are you?"

"And what if I am?" As much as I desired to leave such a lifestyle, I wouldn't deny my humble roots.

"I simply question why someone would leave the simple country life for the dangers of the sea? I'm certain you'd hate to get a few scrapes and bruises on that pretty face of yours."

"I would also question why a nobleman would concern himself with the interests of commoners; leaving said lifestyle for such 'dangers' himself?"

"This from a former mercenary that was kicked out of the French Army as a 'poor excuse for a soldier.'" I wondered how he knew this as he laughed in my face.

"So says the son of the late Earl of Northumberland, who was known to have a less than honorable reputation, with his repeated imprisonments to the Tower. Perhaps you should put your profound, meddling, conk to better use rather than judge others."

He angrily pressed me against a wall. "You knew nothing of my late father, you arse!"

"And you know nothing of my life. Out of my way, 'Georgie Porgie!'" I shoved my way past him, not wanting to escalate the situation more than need be.

"Certainly, 'Goldilocks.'" Some of the other men whistled at this response.

I turned back to knock him, but Archer held me back.

"No fighting aboard!" He warned. "The last thing I need is... . D— it! Too late." He muttered. A tall, long black-haired, burly man was coming down the ladder. "Here comes Sicklemore."

"Trouble below deck?" John Sicklemore was the First Mate. He stood watch, was in charge of cargo, and took over Captain's duties when not available.

"No trouble Sir—'twas merely a misunderstanding." Archer explained. He looked embarrassed and annoyed at the same time.

"You ought to be doing a better job at keeping the lads in line, Archer."

"Certainly, Sir."

He glanced at Percy, then later at me. "If I were you, I'd be looking to make a better impression, especially considering your reputation with the French Army. Tales from other sailors travel rather quickly with the tide, you see." I became gravely pale. He stared me down with his beady eyes. "I'll be keeping a close eye on you, Smith." Sicklemore motioned such and walked up the ladder.

Archer turned back to us. "If you don't wish to be idle, Smith, you can start by swabbing the deck."

I was a bit irritated that Percy wasn't even scolded, but nevertheless I started swabbing.

I hadn't seen much of Newport since my arrival. He was over by a barrel, carousing with Martin, and others over by a table. I stopped scrubbing for a moment to watch.

"Paint a picture, swabbie—'twould last far long'r."

I recollected myself to find Newport and a group of men bursting into laughter. They appeared to be having a belching contest of sorts, seeing who was the loudest. One let out a rather loud noise, unlike a belch, causing the crew to fan themselves in disgust. On a farm, I was accustomed to the smell of manure, but this was worse. I pinched my nose from the smell, losing interest in their festivities, and went back to scrubbing. If he remembered me, he didn't act like it.

While I resumed scrubbing, Percy, had decided to walk past me and spit an area I just cleaned. "You missed a spot. Perhaps you can mop it clean with that angel hair of yours."

"You watch your step," I warned, as he walked past, smirking. I moved the mop underneath him causing him to trip and fall. Laughter was heard elsewhere on deck. As he got up, he gave me the finger. I smirked right back at him. "I tried to warn you."

"Perhaps Percy, would also wish to share swabbing duties?" I turned around to see a tall, dark-haired, distinguished man, of medium build, perhaps in his mid-twenties. Percy muttered something about not doing this at home, before finding another swab and bucket. The man turned to me. "Are you John Smith?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Bart Gosnold. Welcome aboard." He shook my hand. Bartholomew Gosnold was the Quartermaster. He was the overseer of the Boatswain, supplied equipment, rationed the riches, disciplined, and worked alongside the Captain. Men would go to him, except during battle, when the Captain was in charge. "I must warn you both. Quarrelsome behavior will not be tolerated here—not by me nor anyone else. Make haste, men. Supper is being served." He whispered, "I can assure you—it certainly doesn't taste any better when cold."

I took my hard tackle and gruel and filled a tankard with ale. I hadn't had an ale since my sixteenth birthday, as the drink brought back the memories of that day...but there were few options save the seawater, which wouldn't be any better.

I didn't feel comfortable sitting with Archer or the other men at his table—especially since Percy was joining him. I could see based on their attire they all appeared to be "gentleman," or from some highly esteemed noble background. Some of the men who weren't of gentry, at the other tables, were either much older than me, weren't welcoming, or weren't otherwise what I considered "good company." I decidedly sat down by myself. No worries. I was used to holding my own by now.

A man of a tall, medium build, with long, dark hair, roughly ten years older than I, uncorked a barrel, while everyone including him, filled their tankards. "Good thing the ol' windbag is fast asleep." He drank and slipped into a chair beside Archer. "He'd kill me if he knew I was drinking with you all instead of charting the course."

"Come now, Kendall," spoke up Archer. "That's no manner in which to speak of Sicklemore, even if he's not present."

"Oh, humor me for a bit, Arch. That bugger has more control over you than you do your own bloody self!" George Kendall was the Third Mate. He was another watch stander, and was the safety officer. He pushed back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head, and placed his feet on the table. I smiled slightly, seeing how at ease he was, wishing I could be the same. He saw me staring and turned to me. "And what do you want?"

"Nothing, Sir." I replied sheepishly—"I merely lost my train of thought." I vaguely heard and saw Archer whispering something that sounded like my name, and something else, which made him laugh.

"Anyone for Twenty-One?" Kendall whispered, now pulling out a deck of cards.

"Look who's coming!" Archer whispered.

The expression on Kendall's face said it all. "S—!" He quickly put them away.

Even I looked over in that direction. Who could they be referring to... ?


	5. Top Gun

IV. Top Gun

Expecting Sicklemore, Martin or even Newport, I was surprised when Gosnold appeared. Though his attire wasn't as gaudy, it was clearly well-made and tailored. I should have recognized he also came from means.

"Gos," Kendall raised his tankard. "Come join us."

"How's it coming along, men?"

"Perfectly fine."

He knew Kendall was hiding something. "You're playing cards, Kenny, are you not? I can't give you the satisfaction of playing without me."

"Why should I give you the satisfaction of making us all look like asses?"

"I see you're admitting to cowardice?"

"'Cowardice? I don't think you know whom you're speaking to." Kendall brought the deck back out.

I watched this man carefully. He sat and joked with the rest of them if he wasn't an authority figure. Yet he was in control as the men clearly respected him, and seemingly followed his lead. At one point, while he laughed, he met my gaze. I quickly resumed my own business of finishing my food.

Someone offered me what they call "chew"—that tarred leaf some men had chewed earlier. I didn't enjoy the taste at all, but hard tackle and gruel were not appetizing. What other choice did I have?

"Pardon me, is anyone else sitting here?" A slightly pudgy, redheaded Englishman asked me.

"What do you think, Lon?" A tall, slightly muscular, long black haired man, with a Scottish accent, responded. "Do you see anyone else there?" He sat himself down.

"I thought it more polite to ask first," Lon defended. He sat after I shook my head, confirming my answer.

"I'm Ben and this is Lon." The other man answered. "You must be new here."

"Smith." I nodded, spitting every so often. The chew certainly built up the spit in my mouth. I wasn't much of a conversationalist. Nevertheless I appreciated their company for the time being.

I couldn't gage how old they were, and I didn't feel polite asking. But I learned Ben, was from Glasgow, and Lon was a native Londoner, and met while Ben recently moved to London to become a sailor.

Someone from the gentry table cursed. "It appears Percy busted." Lon noted.

Ben spoke up. "I heard rumors from men on his brother, Henry the Earl's fleet, that young Percy has always been the sickly one in the family—poor fellow. Perhaps he felt he could compensate for his illness by getting his degree from Oxford he so proudly boasts of."

_Why would a graduate from such a prestigious University, be here?_ I wondered. Having had to leave school early, I was in no such a position as he was, being far from wealthy.

As the game continued, the other seamen settled in, if they weren't working the evening shift. Ben and Lon followed suit in settling in; while I, spitting out the rest of the chew, stayed for the duration.

More curses came from the rest of the men, as they opted to "stand" one by one, not wanting to lose any more money than they already had.

"Next time... ." Kendall stood up. "I'd better chart the course," Kendall grumbled as he collected the cards.

"Indeed you should," Gosnold agreed. "Nothing personal, men," as he collected his money. "What can I say? Robert had taught me something of value—"

"Yes, Bart—Earl Devereux, you never fail to remind us," teased Archer, putting a hand on his shoulder, as they walked.

"My, Gabe, that was rather surly, coming from a fellow Cambridge graduate—"

"I heard they're both attorneys," Ben whispered to me.

"Awfully cocky of you to be boastful, of someone no longer favorable, even by our Queen—" Archer continued.

"I wasn't praising him, nor considering him a grand influence. After all, even when he was favored, his voyages weren't the reason...not that I would dare speak ill of the Virgin Queen." I smiled, knowing what he meant.

"God save the Queen; Long to reign over us!" They laughed. I found myself wanting to laugh with them, but not wanting to blow my cover, keeping my distance.

They chatted a bit more before Archer went off somewhere. He watched the sea, for a moment before drawing his sword, making graceful swooping movements in the air. He set up a few poles between two barrels, and chopped them in half with a slash. I watched in amazement as he mastered his sword.

I tried to step forward for a better view, but the plank beneath my feet gave away my presence. He looked over in my direction somewhat surprised.

"Smith?"

"Pardon me, Sir, but 'twas rather impressive," I tried to compliment. "Mind if I cut in?" I knew he was an officer, and of a higher authority, but he seemed more approachable than the others.

"You shouldn't be awake at this hour. Your shift starts at six-hundred hours." I didn't get the sense he was scolding, but rather that he was informing me.

"You're right, Sir. Disregard me asking. Good night." I wasn't going to argue with him. I hastily went towards the ladder leading below deck.

"Smith!" I turned around to see him motioning he was ready. "Draw," he added, nonchalantly.

As excited as I was, I was also somewhat nervous, not knowing what I had gotten myself into. It was only after a short period of time I realized how much trouble I was in. (I was always used to going in over my head, often acting first, and thinking later, but it wasn't until later on that I discovered how foolish that was.) After a few clashes he would have me pinned, knocking away my sword. The final time, he managed to grab my sword, holding both our swords at the same time. I really was an amateur.

"I think 'tis high time I settled in for the night." I felt completely embarrassed, although I didn't want to openly admit it. I was certain I made a fool of myself, thinking I could challenge an experienced swordsman.

"Good night, Smith." I could see he was amused by the whole thing. I wasn't so much, though I was surprised and appreciative he at least humored me, giving me the impression I stood a chance, when in hindsight, I did not.

The gruel which splattered into my dish the next morning, was less than appetizing. It was times such as these I missed mum's English breakfast with eggs, crumpets, English bacon, milk, and other vittles. Unfortunately, "chow" would have to suffice. Perhaps dipping the hard-tackle into the gruel would soften it, actually making it edible.

I later walked past the gentry table during breakfast. The same men usually hung out together, to drink, arm wrestle or chat. While Gosnold would join, he didn't exclusively associate with them. Not at all surprising as I'd eventually find he was often following up with the other officers if he wasn't fellowshipping with the other sailors; though occasionally I also found him doing routine stretches, or forlornly watching the serenity of the ocean.

Today, the men were arm wrestling. Kendall and Gosnold were against each other. From what I could see, it was close.

"Who's winning?" I asked. Kendall, Gosnold, and the rest of the men at the table looked up, surprised. Gosnold, taking advantage of the distraction, pinned down Kendall's arm.

"D— it, Smith! I nearly had him." He turned to Gosnold, whispering. "That certainly did not count."

"Of course it did," the victor smirked. "You took your eye off the prize."

"Fine, we'll start over. This time, no distractions." He specifically looked at me, before they resumed.

"What is it, Smith?" Archer stuffily sipped his tankard.

"Perhaps I could press my luck against one of you."

He nearly choked on his drink. "Why, I couldn't 't be bothered—"

"Try me, Smith." Percy challenged cunningly.

Percy and I appeared equally matched. I underestimated his strength in the first round, as he gradually pinned me down. Archer, apparently keeping score, gave him a congratulatory slap on the back. The anger within me made me try harder the next time, and I managed to pin him down. Shocked and angrily, we were dead even. This round, neither one of us could move in either direction.

"Ahem!" I turned around to see the tall man with beady eyes staring down at me. "Join the ranks, Smith. Your shift has started. 'Twould be best to make haste."

"Certainly, Sicklemore." At this point, Percy had my arm pinned to the table, with a satisfactory grin. I didn't care, as I wasn't trying at that point. "A most fortunate break," I remarked to him.

I began wondering what made these "gentlemen" particularly different, when apart from the supposed prestige, they acted no different than ordinary men. I looked back towards them, seeing by now Kendall and Gosnold were joking and laughing about something. I admired their camaraderie and confidence. I envied their sense of privilege. I found myself wanting to belong among them; perhaps even wishing I could be in the place of that "Top Gun."

_Spring, 1607_

"Top Gun?" Thomas asked.

"That's another term for an expert in one's class." John answered. "I suppose 'tis my way of acknowledging I wanted to be like a certain man."

Thomas almost felt as if John was reading his mind... . "You aren't stopping there, are you?"

"I'll tell you more in the morning." Based on the glimmering sun, he decided it would be best to get some shut-eye, as he knew daybreak wasn't far off.


	6. Birds of a Feather

V. Birds of a Feather

_Autumn, 1596_

During my time on the _Neptune_, I learned the various personalities of the officers. I realized each personality was so different, the names of birds—even legendary or hybrid, were used to describe them.

Sicklemore, was often called the "Raven," for being somewhat charming, clever, and perhaps gluttonous in his pursuit of riches. He had a high opinion of himself, often pushing us to the limit, to make him look good. On the positive side, he had an uncanny ability to motivate everyone to accomplish what he wanted, with rather long-winded speeches; although he would often take credit for our hard work. He often talked and acted as if he were captain, although that charge really fell on Newport.

Sicklemore assigned me to move the front sail. The "boom," or the beam that maneuvered the sail's direction seem a bit tough to move at first.

"Faster Smith!" He was impatient. "We have to turn this vessel west."

I thought I could climb on the sail to make it move faster, but as I swung, the sail moved too far in one direction, bringing me right over the water. The other shipmates cackled with laughter. How was I going to move the sail back and keep from falling in?

"Hold fast!" Someone called. As I held as tightly as I could to the sail, someone repositioned it. "Slide down." I made my way down, getting splinters along the way, until I reached the bottom, clumsily, with a thud. I was met by Gosnold, Sicklemore, and other faces.

"I do apologize, Sir," I replied to Sicklemore.

He merely shook his head in disappointment, and did a face palm. "You should have let the ass fall overboard, Gosnold." More laughter ensued from the other shipmates.

Gosnold didn't join them."Come now, men—as you were." Everyone took their places as if the matter was forgotten.

"I'm much obliged," I told him, as I resumed my place. He nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

Gosnold was the "Gryphon," for being the guardian of the treasure we earned, and looking out for everyone, despite being only a few years older than Archer, and a couple years younger than Kendall. His style was decidedly more laid-back, and tactful. We all traded positions, as he felt all crew-members shouldn't consider any position "beneath them." While he was personable, he had no issue laying down the law if need be. In spite of this, they weren't resentful with his correction. I sensed that he took no real pleasure out of the punishment; that he was "one of us," merely doing his job. Despite his position, he commanded respect even while fitting in with the rest of us.

"Alright men," the "Raven" addressed towards the end. "You know your duties, and know them well. We must be well prepared lest any foreign vessels come our way. Think of the gold, jewels and other precious metals those vessels will be laden with... .We'll come after them in full force and show Spain who the true rulers of the sea are, won't we?!" Cheers abounded.

Kendall feigned happiness. "The ol' bastard has a new bloody speech every day," he muttered, as he later came on deck to relieve Sicklemore.

Kendall was often called the "Phoenix," for his vigor and and willingness to take risks. Oftentimes, he'd have us choose our own positions. You could imagine, we'd often argue about positions. He would say "I don't care who does what so long as it gets accomplished; and it had better be." "Raven" would consider his approach reckless, and while he was, we still respected him enough to do our work, knowing very well, he wasn't a force to be reckoned with. If we did well, he would bargain with us for more ale. He seemed the least intimidated by "Raven" and even Martin, but respected Newport and "Gryphon."

"Phoenix" looked out through the crow's nest, scanning the horizon, noting we were likely nearing the Azores. He slid down the lookout tower from a rope in a matter of moments. I had to climb down slowly, as I wasn't as skilled.

It was hot by midday. "Phoenix," finishing his morning watch, took his tunic off, revealing his hairy chest. He tied a rope to his waist. "'Tis much too hot mates, I need to cool off." And with that, he flipped over the deck rail into the water.

Fascinated as I was, I hastily took off my tunic, and jumped in to show off, as if I were diving, which surprised him. Unfortunately, I was quickly sinking, not able to stay above the surface, despite adamantly flailing my arms in the water. I could feel him grab a hold of me, and pull me back up. "Smith—what are you doing?! You need a rope to tie you back in, you ass!" Someone on deck lowered one down, so he could tie it for me. As we eventually pulled to be let up, I was embarrassed by my stupidity. He chuckled as he ruffled my hair and slapped me on the back. "You're good for a laugh."

"Alright men, enough malarky and get back to work!" Reminded Martin. "Kendall and Smith, do make yourselves presentable," noticing our tunics were off.

While I buttoned my tunic, "Phoenix" left his open. "Pardon me, Master Martin, I need to dry off first." He climbed back up to the crows nest while Martin scoffed.

Martin, or the "Hawk," as he was called, was very militant and precise on how he wanted things to function. Most of us sailors were capable of most of the basic positions: helmsman, riggers, or watch-keepers, lookout, etc. However, he always had us work the same positions. Many sailors had their own choice terms to describe his rigidity, but for the most part, he was somewhat respected, if not feared. On the positive side, he was organized, and explicit in what was expected of us, and was typically fair and honest with his criticisms, often suggesting to me constructive improvement.

"Line up men! Stand tall—no slouching! Take your places...and march, one, two, three... ." He would order.

"Hawk" had a few of us practice firing our guns. He demonstrated, putting a hole in his target several feet away. My aim, on the other hand was admittedly terrible.

"Smith can't aim his way out of the end of a barrel," I heard Percy whisper to Archer.

I dreadfully wanted to prove him wrong, but each time was worse than the next. I gave up and decided to observe. After the session was over and others went about their work, "Gryphon" called me over to him and gave me some advice. "You can't succeed simply by shooting aimlessly." He demonstrated step-by-step, and I followed along. "Select your target...aim...fire." He fired an excellent shot. "Go on, try it."

I took his advice to heart and attempted to shoot, nearly hitting Archer, who was coming toward us. Taking all three of us by surprise, I couldn't hold back my laughter. His comrade cleared his throat, covering his own mouth perhaps to stifle any chuckle. Archer wasn't amused.

"Smith, the men are practicing swordsmanship on the other end. Bart, a word, please." I left them but hid behind a barrel to hear the rest of their conversation.

"What are you doing? He either knows the craft of he doesn't."

"Well if I hadn't taught you, neither would you." I could hear them coming. But before I could get up, they caught me.

"Smith!" Exclaimed Archer.

"You should loosen up a bit." While walking past me, his comrade gave him a few pats on the shoulder while looking back towards me with a chuckle. Then he motioned with his head to get moving. I smirked as I went.

Archer was often called the "Falcon," due to his intelligence, keen perception and seriousness. He was very thorough in his explanations, perhaps even long-winded. He could be pompous and pushy at times; one would hate to argue as he acted as if he was always right; but he made certain we all had ample work. As he was a petty officer, it wasn't often he'd stand watch unless he would fill in for someone. As tough as he tried to act, the others likely respected him simply due to his association with Gosnold.

We practiced dueling. During my session, "Falcon" paired me against "Georgie Porgie," who appeared to be evenly matched with me. I could hear Ben and Lon encouraging me, while others jeered. We started out simple enough, clashing our swords together; him, trying to knock mine out of my hand. While I was good at keeping contact, I could not knock the sword away from him, as he eventually knocked me down.

"Come now, 'Goldilocks,'" he jested. "This is far too simple."

"How would you like a fourpenny one?" I got up to punch his side trying to grab his sword, but grabbed mine instead.

"You're a cunning lad, but not early enough." He pinned my sword to my neck. "A mighty handsome sword you have. 'Tis a shame you aren't man enough to use it forcefully." He threw it down as if it were trash, while others cheered.

"Pipe down you ninnies!" Newport spoke up. "You call that a sword fight?! 'Twas merely slappin' sticks togeth'r. If you e'er want to be a part o' this crew, you best learn to mast'r yer swords. Shape up or ship out!" He demonstrated pointed his thumb upwards, and raised it behind his head.

Newport was the "Eagle," as clearly, he was the leader of us all—and a great one for the most part, as few could claim his level of experience, nor question his enthusiasm for adventure. He often looked out for his crew and made certain we enjoyed ourselves. Despite a sense of cockiness, he was still well respected for his reputation, as well as challenging us to the best of our abilities. However, "Eagle's" mannerisms weren't for the faint of heart, as his assertiveness at times could be abrasive. I also discovered between bouts of sobriety and drunkenness, his mood would change as quickly as the tide.

I knew my time was short. I had barely mastered my gun, and still was powerless with my sword. With nowhere else to go, I had to make this work for me, but how?

Later on, I was practicing slashing my sword around in the air, when someone called me.

"Smith." I looked over, and "Gryphon" drew his sword. "Mind if I cut in?"

"What—"

"I seek a rematch. Surely you're not backing down, are you?" I knew he was teasing, but his deep brown eyes stared me down as if he dared me to.

I was up for the challenge, though I started off tense. I tried knocking out his sword, but he was ahead of me, knocking my sword out several times after a few clanks. Each time had frustrated me more, until he said, "follow along." As we clanked swords, our movements remained competitive, but became more rhythmic and chivalrous. After a while I could gauge him, and could tell he was reading me, until finally I was able to catch him off guard and knock away his sword. "Not bad," he mused. But with a quick gesture he knocked me off guard and managed to grab my sword. "...but I'm still the master," he smirked. We continued sword fighting, albeit becoming more casual.


	7. Passing the Pipe

VI. Passing the Pipe

With a new sense of confidence, I challenged Percy to a rematch. We clanked each others' swords together, until Percy managed to knock me down, again. I wiped the sweat from my brow, angrily, determined not to give up this time. I got up again and we continued trying to wear the other one out. While clanking swords, in a fast thinking maneuver, I pinned my sword toward his neck.

Cheers of "Well done, Smith," were heard.

"I'll be borrowing this sword," as I wriggled it from his arms, holding up both proudly.

"You cheated, you prat!" He gradually stood up, and spat.

"Of course not! You lost, Percy. Get over yourself." I threw back his sword, and turned to walk away. But Percy had grabbed me by the neck. Not about to let him win over me, I viciously tried forcing him off; but before our fight could go any further, "Raven" and "Hawk" pulled us apart.

"Alright men, that's enough. You had a good, clean fight," Martin told us. Percy walked away after being released from Sicklemore's hold, glaring. I glared right back at him until Martin loosened his grip on me. "Well done, Smith. You've truly surprised me." I took Martin's comment as a compliment, as praise was often rare coming from him—especially in my case.

"Don't you get too cocky," Sicklemore told me. "'Twas but a drill after all—not even a real fight. As you were, men."

I also found my aim was improving. More daringly one day, during another practice session, I decided to aim for a barrel in the distance. As the ale flowed, I briefly shared satisfaction in myself, until I heard a loud exclamation, followed by the Captain, the other officers, and some of the sailors approaching.

"Bloody Hell! Who did that?!"

"I did, Sir." I answered before considering if I should have said anything at all.

All was silent before he spoke. "Well, what're you asses millin' 'round for?! Whate'er is wasted will seep through the planks!"

This time, the others laughed with me, rather than at me as they went. Percy looked back at the barrel, then at me, muttering something under his breath, before having his share.

"Falcon" measured the distance. "How 'twas possible? No one on board had shot from that distance before."

I noticed Newport began giving me more responsibility to me than the other able bodied sailors, even holding me to higher standards. I was pitted against all the other able-bodied sailors, expected to beat them all. I had to fire cannons and muskets from further distances and shoot more challenging targets. Only when I was able to succeed at these tasks, did he seem the least bit impressed. And even then he'd have the officers give me a new challenge. I began to think he was setting me up just to fail.

"Don't think to much of it, Smith." Gosnold once told me. "He seems to think very highly of you. He tells me and the other officers himself."

"Then why does it appear as if he's setting me up for failure?"

"It only appears that way because you think that way. Newport can be a rather obscure man, but only because he doesn't show his intentions very easily."

I appreciated Gosnold's mentoring, and being able to confide in him; although his position, the other officers, and perhaps his peers, limited what time he could spend. Despite being aware he had his core group of friends and several acquaintances, I hoped he would gradually confide in me more, as time went on.

"Eagle" would even have me man the helm and navigate, instead of doing it himself. I found the navigation difficult, as several maps for the same exact area were drawn by different people; and they weren't similar. Gosnold gave me the idea to draw my own. He and Newport liked my maps better than the others, and they became the standard. Even the other officers had to admit they were more accurate. While Sicklemore decided to copy my maps, Martin asked me to make him other maps. Kendall jokingly remarked he wouldn't have trouble charting the course, anymore. Archer eyed them curiously, as if surprised by my level of talent.

"Smith, are you only sixteen?"

"Would I lie?"

"I've never seen this before—not even in Geography at Cambridge—quite remarkable, really." This was one of the nicer things Archer ever said, so I took it as an opportunity of him opening up to me. "Bart was right; you are more intelligent than I originally thought."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"I simply hadn't expected this much from someone lacking formal education—pardon me for saying that. With that being said, I must give credit where it is due." I could accept that as an honest, somewhat polite, answer from him.

As I was watching the sun set on the deck, Newport approached me, while Sicklemore was on evening duty. He invited me up to the crow's nest, asking me what I saw.

"Looks like a storm's about to arrive... ."

"You'd be right. Which direction?"

That I couldn't answer. He licked his finger pointed it upward toward the sky. "We're 'eaded southeast now. The winds blowin' east. 'Twould be 'eadin our way soon." He told me were headed toward Madeira, an island off the coast of Africa. It would likely take a couple days for the storm to subside.

"'Tis a marvelous sight, is it not?"

"Indeed. I've never been this far from home before."

"There's sev'ral world beyond that sea, waitin' to be explor'd. Yer in for quite the 'venture."

Newport invited me into the Captain's Quarters for a drink, which surprised me. Archer had told me no one besides the Captain and officers went in there. "So Smith, or should I say 'Sea Eyes?'" He poured me some ale and handed me his tankard. "I've met quite a few 'Smiths' o'er the years. 'Tis much easier for me to give you a nickname. I see you still 'ave me old weapons I gave you some time ago upon me visit to Lynn. What brought you 'ere?"

"There's no place else to go to, really. My parents are both deceased. My siblings live with their stepfather...I'm on my own now."

"You're awfully young to be in such a position...much like myself—not 'avin' much of a 'ome life, longin' for 'venture and settin' out as soon as I could...that same determination I see in you. I expect more of you b'cause I know what yer capable of...and yer bound to accomplish more that I, once you reach me own age."

I was speechless, having no idea we were both so relatable.

"When I was yer age, I began sailin' the seas with the likes of William Parker, Sir Walter Raleigh, Thomas Cavendish, the late Francis Drake, Richard Hawkins and his late father John Hawkins. Richard and I 'ave been plunderin' the cari'bea'n for years now."

Mentioning such names piqued my interest, as I have heard of such men before, and also admired them greatly. I handed him back his tankard after I finished drinking it. He was smoking from a pipe. "You don't drink much, eh Sea Eyes?"

"Honestly, I hadn't started until I became a mercenary for the French, but I never took to their wine."

"There's nothin' like a good, strong ale. I s'pose you don't smoke either?"

"No Sir."

He took a few more puffs before offering me his pipe. "Breathe long and slow." I took his advice, and ended up coughing a few times before he took it back, chuckling. "It takes some gettin' accoustom'd to."

In that moment, I had begun to have a connection or understanding with Newport, that I never had with my own father, or any other man I knew. I began to confide in him, and in time, he treated me first as a son, and more as an equal as time went on.

Over the next few days, we eventually made our way southwest, past Madeira, towards the Cape Verde Islands. Before long, we had spotted a Spanish ship. We anticipated the gold and riches it must have carried.

"Alright, sea dogs," Newport addressed the crew. "Here's the moment we've been waitin' for. Let's remember our Queen Elizabeth."

"God save the Queen; Long to reign over us!" We all shouted in her honor.

"Ready men?" Newport shouted. Once the Spanish ship noticed our approach, they began firing. It was time to fire back. "Aim, fire!" We neared the vessel until we were close enough to jump aboard. Newport called out to the captain. "Alright you jackal— surrend'r now, or prepare to fight back!"

"¡Nunca!¡Muévete su barco, hijos de putas!—Never! Move your ship, sons of b—es!" The captain shouted to Newport.

"We're not movin' our ship anywhere! Men—attack!"

Gosnold led a crew of men aboard, and we began sword fighting. Finally, the action I had been seeking. Before I knew it, I was battling with a Spaniard, until I managed to knock him down. I noticed Percy was getting attacked by another man. He had knocked him to the ground. But before the man could strike, I knocked the man out of the way and began fighting him myself. I motioned for Percy to move, and he took a large chest nearby back to our ship. After I forcefully stabbed him, I watched him fall to the ground, shocked that I had actually killed him. However, at this moment, I had little time for remorse.

"Watch out Smith!" Lon warned, who was fighting off another man. I turned around to find the man I knocked down previously was coming back to fight me again. I had ducked before he could possibly chop my head off. When I had turned around again, Ben had began fighting him.

While I saw many of the men heading back towards the _Neptune_, I figured there would be more valuables in the ships' hold, and snuck down there. I grabbed a trove of jewels and proceeded to climb up the ladder, until a man met me on my way up.

"¿Qué te piensas hacer, malparido?—What do you think you're doing, bastard?"

Before I could react or even answer, the man grabbed the chest and pushed me back down. I tried grabbing a rail, but I fell backwards, landing on the floor. The man came down the ladder after me, proceeding to fist fight with me. I noticed my sword had landed not far off, and attempted to roll toward it. But the Spaniard kept knocking me over, grabbing it for himself. At this point, the edge of my sword was inches from my neck, before he was ready to push it through.


	8. Joining the Pack

VII. Joining the Pack

"Ay!"

The Spaniard, choking for a moment, was about to fall on top of me, dead. In a quick maneuver, I slid away, allowing my sword to pierce the floor, just barely missing my neck. Someone had attacked him from behind.

"Gryphon!"

"Make haste! The other men already returned!"

_Why did he seem so cross?_ I wondered as I pulled out my sword. We both scrambled up the ladder, dodging and attacking any other men coming our way.

"Here comes 'Gryphon' and Smith!" I heard Lon shout.

The men were calling for us to climb aboard. Ben and Lon threw us ropes for us to make it across the quarterdeck, onto our own ship.

"That was a close one!" Ben remarked. "Any further away and the rope wouldn't have made it."

"What the buggering hell were you doing?!" Gosnold demanded. "Did you not hear me order the men back to our ship?!"

"I saw the men returning, but thought I could find more treasure."

He hesitated before responding. "Smith, these Spaniards are preparing to blow down our ship rather than surrender. You have to listen out for orders. When I order the men to 'retreat,' you retreat. You might not be so fortunate the next time."

"Right, Sir. My apologies." Apparently I should have paid more attention when the men were going back and followed them. I was sorely embarrassed, being the only one that didn't listen.

Percy wasn't far from me. "I'm surprised 'Gryphon' went back to save your arse," he whispered.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have saved yours then, either."

"Did you not think I could handle the man myself?"

"What happened to the treasure chest?"

"Two Spaniards took it back from me."

"Apparently you couldn't handle yourself, then. Next time, I suppose I'll leave you to die, if that's what you want."

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but Newport was shouting out orders to pull our vessel away from the other ship.

"Press forth, you mongrels! You lowlife pussies move slower than I who only 'ave but one 'and! Fast'r, you bastards, lest you wish to get struck down a blow that will drown us all!"

After finally distancing ourselves from the ship, he continued venting. "Bugg'r—cert'nly managed to cock up that mission! Quite shameful! I refuse to go back to England with li'l to show our Queen—or as the laughin' stock for Phillip II's Spain. My pride will not allow it!" He stormed off towards the Captain's Quarters, while everyone cleared the way.

"Was he yelling at us, or himself?" Lon asked.

Ben shrugged. "One never knows with Newport."

"Give him a moment, men," Sicklemore addressed. "On his behalf, I'd like to say a few words... ." I could hear the men groaning.

"Men, lend your ears!" Martin shouted, attempting to get their attention.

Gosnold rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Alright men, enough!" Finally the men quieted down. "That wasn't our best effort, but it certainly won't be our last, will it?" Various shouts of "No" were heard. "Let's honor the men we've lost and be that more motivated to fight for them the next time." Cheering ensued.

Afterward, Newport had a general ceremony for the men who were slain; and their names were recorded. We wrapped them in their hammocks, tying cannonballs to each end, in order for the body to sink to the bottom of the sea. One by one, as each corpse was thrown overboard, I could see the disconcertment on Gosnold's face.

After the ceremony, I heard Sicklemore telling him, "You went back to save the life of one man...how noble of you."

"I don't believe in leaving a man behind."

"'Tis quite a shame you couldn't save the others, not that one less man would've made a difference. The raid turned out to be a failure. The Spaniards were able to climb aboard and reclaim their possessions. What is our mission here—saving lives or plundering wealth?"

"Even one man's life is more important than a precious gem!"

"You're quite amused by the lad. How much longer will the crew continue to respect you if you continue showing favoritism to one lad—"

"What have done that I wouldn't have done for anyone else?! I didn't ask for any approval, though you certainly need it more than I!" An irate Gosnold left Sicklemore scowling.

If I were strong and daring enough to give Sicklemore a bunch of fives, or a punch in the face, I certainly would have. Every one of those bodies thrown overboard, reminded me where I could've been... .

I waited for a while after finding Gosnold elsewhere on deck, watching the waves toss to and fro. I wondered if I should approach him, as he appeared so solemn. But as a plank creaked beneath me, giving away my presence, him turning to my direction indicated otherwise.

"Smith?"

"Are you well?"

"Not particularly," he replied after some hesitation. "I still feel partially responsible for the lives lost; though it is bound to occur."

"I see 'tis quite difficult working directly with certain subjects." I remarked.

He knew who I was referring to. "No one gives a d— what he thinks with 'certain subjects.' Not even Newport or Martin."

We both had a chuckle. "I never got the chance to thank you," I told him.

He gestured it was no problem. Then he commented, "John, you look as someone knocked the wind out of your sails."

I kept having flashbacks of stabbing that man, and watching the other man nearly fall on me along with his blood. "I...can't believe I killed him...and...he died right in front of me."

He paused as if understanding. "As time passes, and the more often you have to do it, you won't think about it so much."

He told me the stories with Sir Walter Raleigh of battles they faced against Spain, shortly before joining Newport's crew. After hearing about cannons knocking heads off men, in such graphic detail, my experience was dim in comparison.

That may have been my first time slaying, but it wasn't my last. After a while, I stopped considering what I was doing, and slaying was just what it was.

After Gosnold had left, I later noticed "Raven" and "Hawk" were lurking not far away, apparently observing us. I hid to listen to their conversation.

"The Quartermaster is far too chummy with subordinates." Sicklemore remarked.

"It appears to be working for him. They respect him more as a relatable comrade than as a drill-master." Martin added. "I questioned the decision to place him there, given he has less experience than ourselves as veterans. Nevertheless he's proving himself quite capable. They listen to him moreso than us, inasmuch as I don't care to admit such... ."

Martin sighed with a sense of annoyance and acceptance. Sicklemore seethingly muttered unintelligible words.

Nevertheless, as time went on, Gosnold appeared more comfortable in confiding in me, becoming less formal. Even while he continued to mentor me, we began talking frankly about things as if we were on the same level. I would remember he was the Quartermaster around other sea men. I perhaps followed him along as a lost dog would; but while others noticed or made occasional casual remarks, the one who seemingly cared the most, was Archer.

One day, I approached him and the other gentry during a Backgammon game between Archer and himself.

"Bart, Newport anticipates attacking another ship on the morrow. Newport is proposing to make me a Gunner for that battle."

"I know, John. He told me."

I heard Archer whisper to Bart. "Since when do seamen address officers with first names? What happened to subordination?"

"Don't be such an ass!" He whispered back. I've always called you 'Gabe,' while you've called me 'Bart,' despite me being your immediate overseer. It hasn't mattered until now, has it?"

Instead of answering, Archer resumed his turn.

Bart invited me to sit with them. I could see this didn't go over well with the other men at the table. "There's plenty of tables elsewhere on deck," he told them.

Only Percy decided to move. "Fine, I'm leaving," he angrily strutted off.

"What a shame," Kendall replied indifferently, before blurting out laughing. The rest of the men laughed with him, and resumed what they were doing.

The next day, when the time arrived, I was somewhat disappointed I wouldn't engage in more action, but I made my shots count. My most devastating blow was directly in the hull of the ship. The ship was forced to surrender. Suddenly, I was a hero, as some of the men hoisted me over their shoulders. We later marooned the prisoners off the coast of Africa.

Newport was in a happier mood. "Well done, Sea Dogs. Surely our Queen will be pleased." Anything else he said afterward was unintelligible, as he took several swigs from his tankard.

"Never mind him, men." Archer told the rest of us. "He's merely had too much to drink."

"We certainly wouldn't have guessed if you hadn't told us." Remarked Kendall, sarcastically.

"I'm surprised you're sober enough to know the difference."

"I'm well educated, even if I didn't study the law as yourself. And may I add, if you were remotely successful, I'm certain you wouldn't be here in the first place—"

"And had you not been discharged from the military, you wouldn't be here, either."

"You self-righteous prick!" Kendall went to shove him.

"Now, men." Gosnold stepped in between them. He personally told Archer, "Gabe, you know better than to bother him."

"He's a 'wild fire.' Anything will set him ablaze."

"My point exactly: he's called 'Phoenix' for more than one reason... ." Gosnold turned to Kendall. "Of all the quarrels you've both had, this would be the least worthwhile."

"He initiated—"

"You and I both know he can say too much at times. And besides, as mad as you are now, you'll both be laughing and having drinks later on, as always."

Kendall took a moment to grumble, before replying." Inasmuch as it initially bothered me, that you're younger than I, you're fortunately one of the few men on board I actually listen to." Both men laughed.

Kendall said something else I didn't hear. Bart answered, and turned to me. "John, care to join us?"

"With what?"

"Ever played Twenty-One?" Kendall asked.

"Not particularly."

"This should be fun," Kendall smirked. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve... ."

Percy, watching from afar, seeing I was invited, felt he should also be included.

I wondered if I should have agreed, but part of me liked the idea of being included among this group. What did I have to lose? More than I bargained for... . I didn't realize it then, but I was losing the identity I always knew, and becoming one of them. No longer the "lone wolf" in the beginning, I was now a part of the pack.


	9. Brotherhood

VIII. Brotherhood

A few months ago, that summer, I was a lost soul with neither family nor a lady. By late autumn, I was a new person of sorts; reborn, with a new "family" of men I now considered as brothers. As part of the brotherhood, I found myself sharing the same activities as the other men: I drank ale regularly as if it were water. Card games and bets became a regular pastime for me as it was for them. I smoked when they smoked, and chewed when they chewed. As St. Ambrose once said, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do."

Once I started playing games such as Twenty-One, I always wanted to play. I could see why the other men would play so often, even if they lost a great deal of money. Even I hoped each time I played, I'd somehow get better at it... . After finishing yet another game (I refuse to admit who walked away with most of the money), a few of the men sat back down to smoke or chew.

"Phoenix" and I were periodically spitting from the chew he offered me earlier. As much as I originally didn't care for it, since it was an acquired taste, I decided if other men including him occasionally chewed, what was the harm?

"How do you manage to slide from the crow's nest so swiftly?" I've been wanting to ask this question for sometime. Since I built a rapport with him, I decided now was as good a time as any.

"That's another one of my own special tricks. I can't give too many away, lest everyone would copy me." But after a moment, he added. "But since you're one of the more fearless ones on board, I'll show you."

I followed "Phoenix" up to the crow's nest, where he demonstrated sliding down from a rope with such ease. I, however was seemingly burning my palms in the process.

"Argh! S—!" _What?_ I suppose it was surprising hearing these words from my own mouth. But such words were heard so often around here—among others—that it gradually appeared no different than regular speech, hardly seeming vulgar or offensive anymore. (I was a sailor, after all.)

"Loosen your grip, Smithy. You'll slide faster with less burn."

I tried again, and cringed when I landed with a hard thud; but at least it was less painful this time. "D—it!"

"You'll get the gist of it, eventually." In time, I found he was right, but meanwhile it took more practice.

"You think you're quite the swordsman?" "Falcon" decidedly challenged me later on. "Press your luck." He was a fine swordsman himself, but he seemed impressed on how quickly I caught on. "How did you learn the craft so swiftly?"

"I couldn't tell you, Arch, really. I seem to learn as I go along." I added, "actually, this sword belonged to Newport. He gave it to me a short while ago."

"It took me some time to learn." He added, "you might be very well capable of becoming a formidable seaman, even a sea captain yourself one of these days, perhaps sooner than I... ."

His voice trailed off after mentioning "days," as if he were lost in thought. I wasn't certain if he was telling me this for encouragement, or thinking aloud to himself. I was trying to gage his thoughts. At the time, I decided to consider it a compliment. "I'm much obliged." I told him. He smiled back somewhat nervously.

Needless to say, I was enjoying my new life and finding my place amongst these men, though I also wondered about the old life I left behind. I hadn't found much about my siblings at this time. However, I still wrote to Danny, asking how he was, and even about Sarah, still feeling as if I hurt her. I wondered if I should write to her myself, wondering if it would upset her; even asking Danny. He wouldn't go into much detail, besides he was fine, life was as always, and would briefly tell me Sarah was alright, but she would probably need "time," before I came back into her life. Although that seemed like a reasonable answer, I still kept thinking about her... .

"John—up ahead!" Bart brought to my attention another ship above the horizon.

"A Galleon?"

"Nay, a Carrack—the telling features are the high stern and bow. Galleons, tend to have a long beak-head, which is what we have. Galleons have been replacing the Carracks after Sir John Hawkins noted a flaw in the latter's design, though the Spaniards and Portuguese may still use them."

"What flaw?"

"Well, the higher stern slows the vessel down. By having a lower stern, the Galleons are much faster and easier to maneuver... ."

When he paused, we both had a chuckle, knowing very well we were both thinking the same thing... .

I like to think Danny and I were still close, but Bart being older had another perspective on life and matched my carefree way of thinking. While Danny was cautious with new things, Bart was enthusiastic to face challenges, like I was. The more time I spent with him, the more similar we seemed. Even Arch couldn't connect with us on certain things, and at times I think that bothered him.

After we caught up to a defeated that foreign vessel, I shared a tankard of ale and pipe with Newport; a habit after many successful encounters. "I've never seen so much bloodshed in such a short time."

"You've 'ardly liv'd, lad."

"You sure we can't keep any of more of the loot from our adventures?"

"The job o' a sea dog is to give 'onor to the Queen—or even a king, if you will. We take our share and she obtains 'ers. But," he picked up a thick leathery substance from a bag and tore into it. "She won't miss these," he chuckled. He handed me a piece before he chewed on one himself. "Charqui," he said, before I could ask what it was. "'Tis dry meat. Drake, Raleigh an' I 'ave stolen this from our oth'r voyages. They get it from the Indians in the warmer parts of the new world."

"What kind of meat?" I chewed enjoying the taste, but not recognizing it as beef, pork, or chicken.

"'Llama.' An unusual creature, but tasty, is it not?"

I nodded. "You've seen one?"

"Aye. It looks like a bigger, taller sheep with a much longer neck, though the wool is more prized than sheep." I tried envisioning that in my mind. "I've seen lots o' things 'Sea Eyes.' You ask, an' I'll tell."

We talked for a bit more, until it was Newport's shift to take over for the night, and I went off to sleep. On my way, I spotted Percy, and intended to ignore him.

"You're awfully close with the Captain and Quartermaster these days—a rather cunning attempt to obtain favor that's otherwise unmerited."

"Hold your tongue!" I wasn't sure whether to be angry or merely laugh at the accusation. We just happen to become good friends.

"One must wonder if there are ulterior motives to obtaining these advantages with your vast improvements in such a short period—"

I didn't let him finish. I knew where this was going and let him have it, punching him right in the jaw. From there, I couldn't keep track of how many times we punched, kicked, tumbled, or how often Percy pulled my hair. But eventually some of the men must have overheard, as some men began jeering. "Hawk" and "Gryphon" broke us up.

"What the Bloody Hell?! Enough Men!" It was rare to see "Gryphon" this angry. Neither of us wanted to answer. "Listen well: there will be no more fighting aboard this ship! You two—this way!" He motioned for us to follow him.

I didn't know what was in store for us, but willingly or not, we were going to find out... .


	10. Moments of Truth

IX. Moments of Truth

"Cleaning heads" was likely one of the least desirable jobs on the vessel. (However, it was certainly better than the other options of being tied to a mast, flogged, or even keelhauled.) This end of the bow would contain urine and feces. Based on the stench, as we got over there, it had definitely been a while since the last cleaning.

"Oh, s—!"

"Deplorable!" Percy commented. "Such utter filth! Could these men not dispose their waste overboard?!" I said nothing, being rather irritated at the events, and wanting to get this over with. "Smith," I merely looked at him while cleaning my end. "I suppose if we're going to be down here, a while, we might as well make conversation—"

"Shut your bloody hole, and clean, you bugger!" I almost wished I hadn't said that, as I knew it was rude; especially since it was the first time Percy actually attempted to make himself friendly. Percy himself seemed a bit taken aback by my response. I rephrased my answer into something more polite. "What I meant was, we'll finish faster if we keep silent." That was the end of that. We cleaned away until all the filth was gone.

The Quartermaster came to examine our progress. "All right, men. You might as well settle in for the night." I noticed how worn out he looked, as if he had a great deal on his mind.

I followed closely behind him. "I do apologize for that occurrence. I can assure you, it won't happen again," I promised.

"It better not," he said. "Next time I'll flog you."

"I'm not perfect, Bart. Not everyone can be you." I wish I hadn't said that.

He seemed annoyed I'd think such a thing. "You don't know everything about me, John."

"Care for a drink?" I offered.

"Certainly. Care to light this for me?" We had our pipes as we sat down to drink. "Haven't had that in quite some time," he remarked after a few puffs. "Tis certainly not something I'm capable of having at home with the Missus." This was the first time he's ever mentioned having a wife. Most men I've grown up with, would almost always mention their wives, or "she who must be obeyed." Even Newport would complain about Mrs. Newport having him mind his manners, for his daughters' sake, at home.

"You're married? You never mentioned that to me." I asked.

"The previous year." He didn't seem enthused. "I don't mention it often. She comes from a very respectable family. 'Twas an amicable arrangement between our fathers, both working together as attorneys, whom anticipated me also becoming a partner." He grew silent as he puffed some more. "I was brought up to believe studying towards a promising career, marrying and starting a family is merely what every gentleman is expected to accomplish. But afterwards, what else is there?" This is the first time Bart had confessed this much to me. "Here, I don't have to give a d— about anything but the height of the waves. As it is, I'm hardly ever home, and even as a barrister, I still wouldn't spend much time there. At least out here, 'tis more peaceful."

After some moments, I told him. "At least you have someone to go home to." I could imagine how angry my parents would be knowing what I was up to these days. This was a time I actually would've wanted my father to yell at me, to assure me he's there... .

He stopped puffing for your moment to think, "I suppose you're right. A part of me has an obligation...but another part of me never wants these journeys to end." I always imagined Bart to be a stronger character; and while in some cases he was, in others he was just a carefree young man. "I never confided as much to anyone before."

"Why?" I wondered why he'd confide in me at all, with Archer and Kendall in his life.

"Not even Gabe would understand why anyone of his standing would rather be a common man."

"Certainly. It must be quite a bore being amongst high society, their festivities and connections." I playfully mocked, not understanding why one would think so fleetingly on such a life.

His answer was surprisingly serious. "'Tis not all as wonderful as you think. Believe it or not, 'tis not amusing being polite to people who wouldn't care for you, if 'twere not for your wealth or nobility."

Apparently there were tradeoffs that I hadn't considered. Instead of dwelling on it, I decided to ask something that now puzzled me. "But how did you get here?"

"In time, I grew curious about what lay outside the confines of the courtroom... . My cousin, Edward-Maria Wingfield, was a respected military man with certain connections. I convinced him to recruit me for Earl Robert Devereaux and Sir Walter Raleigh's fleet. Gabe tried to talk me out of leaving law, but joined me after my rank increased to Boatswain. I also met Kenny through Wingfield, as he was also in the military. Wingfield considered accepting a position as Quartermaster for Newport, an old friend of his." When he paused, I realized what happened. "Wingfield unfortunately had to remain stationed in Ireland. There was concern of me overseeing my peers. while initially difficult, I found I earned their respect more by reasoning and being relatable. He convinced them I'd only be here temporarily. But by early summer, Newport asked me to stay, and Wingfield instead assisted Devereaux and Raleigh in capturing Cadiz, amongst other affairs. I'm not certain most of the crew were ever aware of this."

"Wingfield" seemed familiar. It was then I remembered my short time serving as a mercenary, that a rather stodgy, redheaded man called me a "poor excuse for a soldier," since I couldn't handle a gun. But now...

"I believe we've met before."

"Is that so? He's not agreeable with those outside of his social standing—no one on that side of the family is."

"At least I can be honest with you, and admit I would not have cared for him in this role."

We chuckled and puffed, before he seemingly spoke aloud. "'Twould be a couple more weeks 'fore we return to London... ."

It occurred to me, that eventually, we'd return to England. Bart would resume his apparently humdrum life, and I... ? I didn't want to leave this ship. If I could, I'd continue sailing for the rest of my life.

We chatted a bit more, until I finally decided to go below deck to get some sleep. I was surprised to find Percy wasn't asleep.

"Still awake? I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"No, I thought I'd sleep better on this side of the ship. Where were you?"

"I went to—I needed some air." I decided my chat wasn't his business. I normally slept on a straw mat next to Ben's and Lon's, while Percy's was off to himself; but tonight he began moving it toward mine.

"You don't mind if I sleep here, do you?"

"You can sleep wherever you like." I was too tired to care.

"You should get some sleep, Percy. We'll have a busy day tomorrow if the tide's on our side." I folded my arms behind my head and laid down. I noticed Percy kept looking at me as if he wanted to say something. I sat up. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing—just lost in thought." I laid back down, closing my eyes. After a few moments, he said, "Smith?"

"Yes?"

"I don't quite know how to say this, but perhaps I was slightly ungrateful about—"

"Don't worry about it."

"Smith—or should I say 'John?'"

"Call me whatever you will, just go to sleep." I was getting annoyed at this point.

"I'm not quite tired yet," he confessed. "Anyhow, I thought we could chat for a bit, since you're the only one down here who speaks or pays any mind to me at all."

"Well, if you wouldn't act as if your sword was so far up your—"

"I'm well aware of the impression others have of me, John. But I can assure you, contrary to what many may believe, I'm not an elitist snob. As a nobleman, I merely have difficulties relating to the rather simplistic matters of commoners."

"I see," I mused, not believing a word.

He pulled out a wineskin from his bag, perhaps half full.

Now conceding, I sat up. "Where did that come from?"

"Shhh." He put his index finger on his lips. "I stole this from a Spanish soldier."

"I'm not too fond of wine. I tried some as I served with the French Army, but 'twas rather putrid."

"Bah! Even an ass knows the Spanish wines are best. I would know—my family has tried the best of both, and we all prefer the Spanish. In fact, this one is quite similar to what I would have at home."

"I suppose I could take your word for it." I reached for it.

"Not so fast." He pulled it away and gulped some down. "Me first."

I took it from him. "'Tis rather sweet." I agreed." I drank some more before Percy grabbed it from me.

"Not a word to the others," he warned. "I didn't intend to share—especially not with the crew. Personally, I don't recall ever having to share anything in my life."

"You're most fortunate. I don't recall _not_ having to share anything in my life."

"Ah the life of the privileged." Percy grinned, then suddenly frowned before speaking again. "Actually, 'tis not quite so grand—being the last of eleven; my eldest brother, Henry being the Earl, skilled at everything I'm not; reminding me of my failures... ."

I was getting the sense of how lonesome, and miserable he truly was. Come to think of it, he was usually by himself, putting down others. Most of the men ignored him, but even the limited time I humored him was at least some positive reinforcement.

"For what 'tis worth, I'm quite envious of you, Smith. You have more talent than I do and are favored by all."

"There's nothing worth envying. Even as the eldest, I've yet to succeed at anything. I dropped out of school a year ago, and quit my apprenticeship as a merchant after my father passed away. At least you finished your education and studied at University."

"That was my brother Henry's idea for me to become 'useful,' as he supports me financially. I don't particularly care about my education, as I've always wanted to serve as a soldier and explore new worlds."

"Surely your brother has several fleets—"

"And my brother would find it an embarrassment to have me on any of them. Setting out here was my own idea, as he claims I 'won't be healthy enough to be considered a decent soldier.'"

"Your brother appears to be a bigger arse than you are."

"I'll consider that a compliment."

I reached into my own bag. "Charqui?" I offered, breaking off a piece.

"What—"

"Try it—you'll like it," after I explained what it was.

He chewed his piece, making the most unusual expression, before deciding he liked it, as we resumed sharing the wineskin and chewing Charqui.


	11. A Whole New World

X. A Whole New World

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!" I heard Ben call.

I groaned, opening my eyes to find quite a few faces looking over me—some grinning, some laughing. I was lying right next to a barrel, an empty wineskin nearby. Percy was sprawled out on top of me, but he was beginning to stir. We looked at each other, trying to recall what must have happened.

"Argh, get away from me, you bastard!" He cried.

"You'll have to get off of me first, you arse!" We scrambled to our feet.

"You two have had quite the night singing like two drunkards atop a barrel, arms on each others shoulders swaying back and forth, as two peas in a pod." Lon used Ben to demonstrate. "_Shall I go walk the wood so wild, wandering, wandering, here and there—(1)_"

"Spare us our ears, Lon—even when drunk, those two sounded better!" Ben grinned.

"You awoke half the crew. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you two were old friends."

"Preposterous!" Percy retorted. "What makes you believe I value the company of the likes of a farmhand?"

"Why not?" I replied smugly. "A popinjay is no smarter than an ass!" His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something, but "Eagle's" hook banged a nearby wall.

"Alright men, that's quite enough!" Newport announced, bringing back our attention. "You lads best be thankful yer still 'ere. You asses could've easily been maroon'd on the nearest isle, or e'en swimmin' with the fishes back to England."

"We do apologize sir." I felt responsible for laying down the first punch.

"We 'ave but ano'er couple of weeks b'fore we return to London. Make 'aste."

Before I went anywhere, the captain stopped me with his hook. "The bugger prolly deserv'd it, but don't give me reason to reconsid'r bringin' you aboard. You've come quite a ways in a short while." He slapped me on the rear before I went my way.

Kendall came up to me jokingly as we sat down for breakfast. "_If you intend thus to disdain, It does the more enrapture me, And even so, I still remain, A lover in captivity.(2)_"

"Pipe down, 'Phoenix' lest you want a bunch of fives!" I shook my fist.

He raised his brow. "I think you know as well as I how much of an egregious error that would be." I pondered that for a moment, and rightfully changed my mind. I knew I couldn't compete with him.

He then whispered. "That's what I caught Percy singing last night. Speaking of which," he looked around before whispering in my ear. "I thought you'd like to be aware of some rumors going around... ."

After he told me, I was shocked, and then slightly amused. "I see... ."

"You should be grateful I covered for you this morning. The 'Raven' was looking for you, and I told him you were working my shift. I figured you could use the extra rest before he suspects foul play."

"I'm obliged." I didn't really want to face Sicklemore this morning anyhow.

As Percy climbed up top, he began snickering. "Some say, you resemble a vain woman with your constant tossing and turning."

"...Others say you sound as one when carrying a tune."

"Keep quiet, lest you want to be tossing and turning with the sails!"

"Not if I tie you first!" He glared while I grinned. After a moment, I added. "Care to join me for some ale afterward?"

"You can't be serious! Besides, I quite detest the bitter taste and prefer a good wine."

"Well, apparently we emptied that wineskin last night. Besides, according to the others, we appear to get along better while drinking."

He thought for a moment. "Well, now considering I likely won't remember hardly anything afterwards, I can't see any harm... ."

_Spring, 1607_

Land ahead. John and could see it on the horizon. "There it is Thomas." He pointed to a vague outline across the sea.

"Land!" Thomas gleefully scanned the horizon, wondering what waited awaited them there.

"Land ho!" He shouted to the crew. Excited shouting ensued. John excitedly breathed in the fresh air as he did every time he came close to shore. Each time would bring back those memories of the first time. Even after several years, John could still remember his first experience on a strange land as if it were yesterday.

_Autumn, 1596_

"Bloody Hell, men! You asses nearly ran the ship aground!" That was Newport berating the crew for an otherwise sloppy landing. Before heading back to England, a storm pushed us toward the coast of Africa. We decided to settle along the Gambia River, for now, which was a common trading port for merchants. I had to admit, while I was far from home, it was a relief to be on dry ground again.

Shortly after landing, I could hear the sound of beating drums. As we went closer to them, we noticed a clearing with a certain village through the grasslands. The native people were having such festivities. I noticed the bright colors and ornate beads, that clashed against the scantily clad dress of the women and their dark skin. While men were beating drums, wearing no tops but seemingly skirts for a bottom, the ladies were dancing. I stopped and stared in amusement. I wasn't certain if I considered them pretty or not, but I was certainly enamored by their rapid movement in ways I've never seen people move before.

I wanted to delve a bit further, when Bart reminded me we weren't explorers—at least not yet. Not to mention, any further, and we'd be treading towards Portuguese camps. The area seemed highly segregated, with various disputes between English-Portuguese control.  
Bart and I took off our shoes and stockings to feel the wet sand and water between our toes.

"'Tis so fascinating out here," I remarked, noting the warmer climate, comforting breeze and welcoming trees I've come know as "palms."

"'Tis rather pleasant," Bart admitted, now taking his tunic off. "Though I'm not particularly fond of the humidity." He noted the rainy season had ended, and the humidity would've been much worse a few months ago.

Noticing how hot it was myself, I took off my own tunic to wipe the sweat from my face. At this point, I had grown a fair amount of blonde whiskers. I debated shaving them, but seeing how stubble wore well on Bart and Kenny's darker hair inspired me to keep it for a while—as it made me feel more like a man. I had a slight proud grin as my shirt rubbed against them, noting them in the reflection of my sword.

"Don't get too attached to them," my comrade joked. "Once we reach civilization," he made a swooping noise with a dagger. "Off it goes. Prim and proper ladies don't think too kindly of touching stubble, though the playful ones find it adds a nice touch."

Bart, meanwhile, climbed a palm, and dropped a few cannonball-like objects before climbing back down. "Coconut." He answered my puzzled expression. "'Tis very watery on the inside, but the flesh has a nice taste." He cut it in half with the back of a hatchet. We sat down watching the waves, holding the half in our palms and drinking the juice as if it were a bowl, before scooping out the flesh with our daggers.

"Surprisingly refreshing," I remarked. Not that I minded ale, now, but it had been so long since I had anything else, I was forgetting what other foods and drink must have tasted like.

"The people here know how to mix it into what they call 'coconut milk.' I haven't mastered that yet."

"I didn't know people could look so dark." The people here had skin as brown as tree bark, which I've never seen before. Their clothing, was nearly non-existent, with a strange language and customs I couldn't understand.

"People all around the world are quite different, John—especially their appearance and customs. I've met people as unusual as here in another world, though they're more copper-skinned, with long dark hair—if they have any at all." I had to chuckle at that. "There is another world I am intent on seeing. Sir Raleigh had mentioned more land, that in some ways, reminded him of England. Some parts having a similar climate, and a comforting feel he could not describe—a 'home away from home.'"

I found this interesting. "What world was this?"

"Sir Walter Raleigh and other explorers call it 'The New Word.' They planned to explore, and hopefully start another colony like those in England. But the native people there weren't hospitable, and they had to vacate. Many men went missing. Some say they were eaten by those people. Someday, I intend to make my own voyage out there and see it for myself... ."

"Something tells me you will." I assured him.

The more Bart spoke of this "New World," the more fascinating it became. I also hoped to see it for myself.

At this point, we finished the coconut, and went toward the water. I collected some interesting shells and rocks I wanted to identify later. We made a game of skipping rocks. Mine would skip so far, and Bart was determined to beat me. When he finally did, I threw the rest of my rocks at him. He responded by dunking me into the water.

After joking for some time, we reminded ourselves we should probably head back to camp. We were supposed to be hunting for warthogs, something similar to pig, except hairier with tusks, according to Bart and the other men.

As we were hunting down the warthogs, I spotted, a good-sized beast drinking near a watering-hole. With precision, I narrowed down my target and fired. I prided myself on how skilled I had become with shooting targets. As I went near it however, a dark man jumped out from behind a tree shouting in a foreign tongue, to attack me. A few others came after him.

"John!" I could see Bart running toward our direction, shooting one of them down, until another man attacked him.

I meanwhile was trying to keep the man from stabbing me, as I kicked him down. But other men kept coming after us, and we began strangling them. As I finally managed to stab the man with a dagger I hid in my shoe, the other man that I knocked down was coming toward me again. Bart had finished off his attacker and shot him from the ground. But I noticed another man coming from behind him.

"Watch out!" I shouted.

Too late, he had my comrade by the neck. Thinking fast, I tried climbing on top of him, but he knocked me off. I finally grabbed my gun, knowing it was a risky move, with the men tossing back and forth across the ground. Hastily, I aimed before firing my last shot... .

* * *

1) "Will Yow Walke the Wood Soe Wylde?"

2) "Greensleeves"


	12. Ladies and Gentleman

XI. Ladies and Gentleman

The attacker released his grip and fell down. At this point, all the men who attacked us were dead.

We both had to catch our breath. "Not bad," my comrade complimented. "I'm obliged."

"I thought 'twas high time I saved your arse," I grinned. Then I wondered. "Who were they?"

"Probably poachers. They like to hunt warthogs for their ivory, and other animals for their fur." He answered. "We should head back to camp lest anything else happens."

We headed back to camp carrying our warthogs, with some scratches and bruises, but nothing we couldn't heal from. We met Arch and Kendall along the way.

"Did you lose your way, men?" Archer enquired. "Newport sent us to look for you."

"Looks like they went to war with each other...and brought food!" Kendall remarked.

"Actually, we went for a swim before hunting. Some poachers attacked us. John stopped the last one from choking me."

By the time we arrived at camp and told of the events, many of the men were congratulating me; either verbally, with or slaps on the back, including Newport, who slapped me on the rear. Sicklemore and Martin weren't around, as it was their turn to guard the ship along with a small portion of our crew.

We noted merchants taking several dark-skinned people aboard their ship. They were to be sold as slaves.

"Perhaps 'tis best I limit my time in the sun." Kendall remarked while we ate by a fire. "Lest I tan further, only to become mistaken for a slave." The men laughed, while I laughed along quietly.

"You should purchase one, Kenny," Bart suggested, as the surgeon tended to our bruises. "Perhaps you'll have one woman you'll actually have to keep."

"I don't particularly care for the savage kind, Gos."

"Savages, Savages." We all joined in, clanging tankards of ale amongst each other.

As much as I didn't think of them as civilized, there probably were times I questioned if the treatment was right... . Nevertheless, I somehow felt little remorse for those poachers—savages, they were.

In a couple more weeks, we finally reached London. When we pulled into the River Thames, we were met by a crowd full of loud cheers and happy faces. But at the moment, we only cared for one in particular.

"Her majesty, the Queen Elizabeth of England and Ireland... ."

I often had envisioned her as a striking, no nonsense, ruler. Despite being more slender than anticipated, and her hair a more faded auburn than a vivid one, she lived up to it in her elaborate, regal attire and ability to command attention. Suddenly, finding a strong woman in our presence, we found ourselves bowing, minding our manners, language and behaving like any gentlemen should. I had a chuckle at how civil we acted in public, knowing we wouldn't dare repeat what we did aboard. Had anyone seen us aboard a moment ago, one wouldn't consider our behavior "gentlemanly" at all.

"Well done, good faithful servants of England, and Ireland... ." Queen Elizabeth was utterly pleased with our endeavors, and had given Newport and his crew generous prize money, when we presented the treasure before her.

"God save the Queen, long to reign over us!" We cheered, as the Queen's soldiers transferred her share of the treasure to Nonsuch Palace on several carriages.

"Finally, fresh air, food, and clean clothing." Percy hailed a carriage. He packed in his bags one by one.

"Billy no-mates!" I called.

"I wish men wouldn't call me that. It gives men certain ideas... ."

"In all sincerity, Percy. I know most of the men weren't expecting you to stay, but I hope you and I can return after the season."

"You mean you'll actually miss my presence? How thoughtful. However, I do fully intend on enrolling at Middle Temple to study law."

"I see... . Godspeed, Percy."

He looked solemn for a moment. "Would you care for a lift? I'll pass through Lincolnshire on my way to Northumberland."

"Could I?"

He gestured I could. But before I could step in, the carriage trotted away. "Do forgive me. I wasn't aware the carriage has already reached its capacity," I heard him say, as it trailed off.

As much as I wanted to be angry, I noticed a hefty sack on the ground. Opening it, I found it was prize money. I had the last laugh. _Surely he won't miss these_.

I looked around and noticed most of the men had places to go and people to see—mothers, fathers, siblings, lovers or spouses. Martin went home to his wife and young son. Newport introduced me to his wife and daughters before heading home. Even Sicklemore seemingly vanished, to visit his mother.

"London always brings me back to certain days—attending parties and and actively socializing while Gabe and I were studying for the bar—well, supposedly." Bart, Arch and Kenny introduced me to old friends through the crowd.

I couldn't keep track of all the people, but I took note of the ladies that stopped them along the way, as there were quite a few—and all quite pretty. London women did seem more sophisticated than the girls in my village, especially in attire. The ladies who wore the simple dresses of the countryside were considered peasants or of a lower class. While they gave kisses on many hands and received more on either cheek, after some time, I could tell Bart was quite amused.

"Some of these maidens are more fond of me now than before I was married. Even when I tell them I'm spoken for, they don't seem to give a d—! The troubling times we live in!"

"Perhaps you shouldn't toy with them so much." Arch commented.

"I've always been the friendly sort, but not one to trifle," he defended.

"Well men, whatever shall we do now?" Kenny mused. I could tell he had an idea in mind. "I say we refresh ourselves at my place, and enjoy a well deserved evening. If we're fortunate, we might even meet a few lasses. I invited a few friends over for supper."

Kendall had inherited a relatively nice town house in nearby Westminster. _This is how higher society lives,_ I thought, as I was given a tour. Bart didn't stay for long as he decided to head towards home.

"Is this what you have to wear?" Arch asked me.

"The best I have."

"Perhaps to a trip to the country fair. In London, these won't suffice."

Arch and Kenny had me fitted for new clothes, as they jokingly remarked they couldn't be seen in public with my yeoman attire. The quality of the materials and fit were outstanding (...as was the price). Nevertheless this was the first time I could consider myself distinguished. I examined my reflection in a polished pan. I appreciated the gesture, and came to like the dignified look, although one thing bothered me. "The tights, are...rather... ."

"You'll stretch them; in time, they'll become more comfortable," Arch assured.

Meanwhile, Arch schooled me on etiquette and the expectations for London women. According to Arch, they were quite particular. What you wore, position in life, and any wealth or property increased your chances of success with them.

"Do you own any property?"

"The farm I grew up in, with several acres."

"Simply tell them you inherited property with several acres in the countryside, or you own land with a private estate. They'll be more impressed without referencing the farm itself."

"Come now, Arch." Kenny butted in. "He's not looking for a wife. 'Tis quite a bit to expect for a roll in the hay."

"Of course you'd say so. The women you entertain are far easier."

"You know as well as I, the supposedly proper ladies are merely more secretive about their affairs... ."

While they bickered back and forth, I could only imagine what Kenny's friends were like. But I was surprised to note many were reputable military men, gentry, and several lady friends he met between London and other places he was stationed.

"Pardon the intrusion," as a familiar face entered.

"Gos—what a pleasant surprise!" Kenny answered. "I anticipated you were headed home."

"I was...but I ran into an old friend along the way, and thought she would've liked to meet other friends of mine." Bart had his arm around a comely blonde, roughly five years my elder. "Gabe, you remember Cate—Catherine Barrington... ."

"Catherine?!" His mouth gaped open as if in shock, then he seemingly composed himself again. "Forgive me—yes, I do remember... ." Arch glowered and was about to speak, but Kenny cut him off.

"Welcome." Kendall extended his hand, which she accepted. Then he whispered something in Bart's ear that the latter shrugged off.

I was able to hear Arch finally whisper to Kenny. "You're allowing her stay?"

"'Tis his business, not ours. I already told him I washed my hands of any repercussions. In any matter, she's a guest in my house and will be treated as such—particularly since I'm fond of blonde or auburn-haired ladies."

I didn't know what to think, whether this was typical of him and his comrades were accustomed to this, but I decided it was best to keep any opinion I had to myself. I was somewhat curious why this woman had such an effect on him, despite having a wife at home (and whose name I still didn't know)?

In any case, I found her very much like Bart, who was outgoing and amicable. In other ways her golden hair and bluish eyes reminded me of another person... .

"He's rather charming Barry." She commented. "Is he a distant cousin of yours?"

"No, no relation."

"Where are you from?" She asked.

I expected her to ask about lineage, as the other women had. "Well, I come from Willoughby."

"I wasn't far off then. I thought you had Lincolnshire accent."

I felt embarrassed that she already knew I was a country man and not a true gentleman.

After, supper, many of the other attendees were dancing, including my comrades. I wasn't certain if I were comfortable among such a crowd. None of the dances were the familiar Jig, Hornpipe or Roundel. I later discovered it was a Galliard, a rather sophisticated dance reserved for higher classes. Surprisingly, she approached me after one of the dances ended. "You aren't going to continue standing there as a night watchman, are you?"

"But don't you think 'twould be more customary to ask you to dance?"

"It appears you already are."

_That settles it then._ Conceding, I decided to enjoy the moment, as I realized many of the people were already enjoying themselves, or had far too much wine to care about anyone else around them.


	13. Family Matters

XII. Family Matters

Catherine was the type of person that was so reassuring and easy to talk to, you could easily imagine knowing her your entire life. I would've been happy to chat and dance with her the entire evening. Not to mention, I couldn't help but compare her to Sarah. While both were beautiful, Sarah was slender overall; Catherine was somewhat taller and a bit more shapely, having a more defined waist, fuller bosom, and lips. I was hoping she wasn't conscious of me having taking notice, but I eventually received the impression while she chatted that she must have been accustomed to such attention, as she went about it indifferently.

"These dances normally take some time to learn," she told me between dances. "Though you're proving to be a rather fast learner."

"It helps having a good teacher that makes it seem so simple."

She tried not to laugh at this. "I haven't even shown you the more difficult ones."

"Then I suppose, I'll be required more lessons."

"You're a relentless one aren't you?" We laughed for a bit, before she asked me, "John, have you a lady?"

"Nay. My last love ended my courtship earlier this year. She was eager to marry and settle down, and I wasn't ready."

"You're a sensible young man. Too many are far hastier with such a decision. I could write a script with the ones I know."

"Perhaps you should."

"Nay. Shakespeare will claim 'twas his idea." She chuckled, then added, "It appears you merely wanted different things. Perhaps in time you'll both be ready, or you'll find someone you'll be ready with."

"Thank you kindly for the words of wisdom," I commented. She appeared to like that compliment. "Now that I think of it, you remind me of her—in a good way, except you're more mature."

"You make me seem old, John." She teased.

"What I meant was, you're more sensible, and ladylike." I secretly chided myself, knowing that wasn't quite what I wanted to say.

"Hmm...I see." While she gave me a slight smile, in the back of my mind, I was wondering if I had sounded foolish.

However, these thoughts were interrupted when another man embraced her from behind. "May I have the next dance?"

"Why Barry," she turned her head around to steal a kiss. "I was certain you were already quite occupied with Anne, Jane and Rebecca."

"Well, if you hadn't devoted much of your time to every, Thomas, Robert and Henry, perhaps I would've asked sooner," he teased.

"I thought 'twould be impolite to refuse my admirers. Jealous are we?"

"Perhaps...though surely you'd know I prefer to share the Queen's favorite dance with a better partner... ."

It didn't take much for him to whisk her away, as the musicians began playing a Volta. I watched, envying him as he hoisted and twirled her in the air a few times. She laughed along with him as if I were long forgotten. I couldn't help but notice how comfortable they were, yet somewhat displeased I wasn't in his place at that moment... .

"You seem rather smitten... ." I turned to see Archer.

"Am I that obvious?"

"She's not difficult to find alluring... ." He assured me.

As I continued to watch the two dance, I decidedly asked Arch. "What do you know about her?"

He hesitated for a moment. "She comes from a respectable family in Essex. Her late father a former member of Parliament, who left her brothers and herself the means to afford a more than comfortable lifestyle. I should also have you know—"

"Arch, I was merely curious. I'm aware of social structure in that I have not the means nor the proper background to be in any position of suitability for her." I began wondering how and why I became a part of a festivity in which I wasn't really suitable for anyone.

"Smith, there's something else you must know about—"

But I wasn't listening as my gaze shifted from her to other appealing ladies in the room. A brunette was now approaching me.

"Are you John Smith?"

"Indeed, I am."

"Kenny, Arch and Bart have mentioned you. I'd loved to hear more of your adventures. I'm Becca."

I suppose these people must have assumed I was also gentry. The voyages I had finished were of apparent interest. I perhaps exaggerated some of my experiences to impress them, but I assure you not by much. These ladies became especially intrigued with my knack of storytelling. However, I met many a Lilly, Rose, Becca, Lizzie and Mary that I found it difficult to keep track of all of them. I adopted Kenny's approach of calling everyone "darling," "love," "dear," or "sweetheart," as it was much easier to remember than their actual names. (I don't think they minded either way.)

There was one name who I did hold fast to, which I was trying to convince myself as being unavailable to me. But before she left with her escort, she managed to give me a quick peck on the cheek. "'Twas a pleasure meeting you." (If I wasn't already a confused young lad... .)

Archer and I spent the night at Kendall's, as we deemed it rather late for traveling. Our other comrade presumably settled in some time later, or perhaps earlier in the morning.

Sometime in the afternoon, there was another visitor. Instead of a lady however, it was another distinguished gentleman, perhaps in his early twenties.

"Good afternoon. I hope I'm not disturbing you all."

"Are you a tax collector?" Kenny asked.

"No, Sir."

"Then by all means, do come inside."

Bart and the young man chuckled, before he introduced me to his brother, Anthony. One could easily mistake them for twins if one hadn't noticed Bart was a few inches taller, with slightly darker hair.

We went to the Boar's Head Tavern for lunch...and some gambling. Anthony, an aspiring barrister himself, otherwise inquired of his brother's adventures, as we told him what we found, and he in turn told of stories in their childhood.

"Anthony, what brings you to London?" I inquired.

"I visit London every so often to meet with old peers when I need time away from University... ." As my brother and I am aware, law can be tedious at times." Both brother's grinned as they knew what he meant. "However, while I was planning a visit, Mary inquired about me bringing her along to her grandparents, since she knows you're not particularly fond of going there—"

"She's in London?" His brother inquired. "Is she well?"

"Indeed, she is. She's content as always." I had a feeling he was trying to be polite. "Actually we've been in London a few days now. We've noted the men have returned from their exploits and I knew you usually come here. She, however sends her regards."

"As usual," Bart mused.

"Mary is Bart's wife," Arch whispered to me, as he noticed my quizzical look.

I had wondered about their peculiar behavior. _Why did she not care to see him? Why was he nonchalant?_ I wondered what his life was really like, and how it coincided with his behavior the previous evening? Speaking of that night, I began thinking of his guest again. _She is lovely, confident... . And what if she's older, and from a different class? She approached me... . Though she has relations with...but he is married... . His actions, however... . Still, I cannot have her...but why can he?_

"Bull—! It can't be!" Bart's exclamation interrupted my thoughts. He apparently lost money to his brother while playing Twenty-One.

"There's a new victor in town," Anthony smirked. I could see, however, that this wasn't sitting well with his brother, as his frustration and dubiousness was still apparent. "Well, I suppose 'tis high time, for us to leave."

"Come now, Anthony." Spoke up Bart, decidedly. "Why not stay for another round of Twenty-One? Surely you could only fare better... ."

"What will you wager?" Anthony contested.

"All of it," Bart added. "One more condition: No surrender."

"Done," his brother agreed.

If there's one thing I learned about Bart, he was a competitive man who did not like to lose. "This won't end well, will it, Arch?"

"With the way these two make a go of things, we'll be fortunate if 'twould end at all." He groaned.

"Count me in, and I'll make mine double," I decided, pulling out both Percy's and my share of the prize money. The hand I remember having was a ten and a seven. The dealer had a nine. Hit, stand, or split? I don't remember what choice I made, but looking back, it didn't seem to matter, I wasn't likely to win with such a hand.

Unfortunately, I discovered Anthony wasn't much different from his brother in regards to losing. After several rounds (even I lost track), I felt a bit foolish for making a horrible gamble, which would cost me all of my money—and Percy's; Though I'm not sure why I even cared about his set, since I highly doubted it would affect him at all.

Bart had flipped over his set. "Blackjack!" He had an Ace of Spades and a Jack of Spades. Game over, indeed.

"This is far from over," Anthony defended.

"Tonight, 'twould be," Bart grinned, having the satisfaction of winning.

"Why, because you say it must be so? Must you always have the last word?!"

"Why does this surprise you? I always have."

"Well, for someone so self-satisfied, you've certainly set a fine example as an older brother. Leaving a successful career as a barrister to become a sailor leaving your wife, Mary behind, who happens to be with child—"

Bart was about to strike his brother, but was taken aback by the news. "What?!"

"I see, you were unaware. You're to be a father. She'll be due in April—Not that you need be concerned as a kind neighbor, Jasper Sharpe waits on her in your absence—"

Anthony could hardly say another word until he was knocked over. I stood between both brothers while Archer and Kendall tried to keep them apart, almost to no avail. It took more support from others before we could get them under control. The next we knew, the brothers were laughing and singing lines to Greensleeves.

"Brotherly love," mused Kendall. "What more can you say? This happens all the time between these two."

I didn't have any money to travel back to my farm—not that I wished to leave the City—nor stay at an inn. I put out my pipe, not sure where I was headed. Bart handed me two bags of coins; my prize money and Percy's.

"What are you doing?"

"I can't take your money, John. 'Twould not be right. You might not be so fortunate with other men. A word of advice—never bet more than you can afford to lose. Don't ask how I know." Suddenly, he added. "Time to go see the Missus."

I understood. "Godspeed," was all I could muster, given the situation.


	14. Homecoming

XIII. Homecoming

_Winter, 1596-1597_

When I knocked on a door, a familiar face greeted me with a puzzled expression and a grin. "Good afternoon Sir, are you lost?"

"I haven't been gone that long, have I?"

"Well, pardon me for mistaking you for a distinguished gentleman." I gave him a disgruntled look before we both laughed. I missed his sense of humor. He welcomed me with open arms. "Johnny Boy, 'tis good to see you."

I realized I hadn't been called that in months. "Same to you, Danny Boy." He had also gotten taller, but stayed somewhat lean.

"My, you're dressed nicely: a clean dress shirt, tights, polished shoes, and neatly tied hair."

"I came from a friend's." I spent some time at Arch's estate in Manningtree. "I never met a man with so many shoes and tailored clothes, half of which he doesn't wear anymore. He gave some to me, since we're a similar size." Arch, in turn, couldn't understand why I only had one pair of good shoes.

"I see—fine taste in clothing," he mused, while feeling the material of my shirt. "You hated wearing your good clothes even to Morning Mass. You'd be running in the meadow soon after service was over."

"...And mum would yell at me, while dad would give me a lashing for dirtying my good shoes."

I spent Christmas with Danny. For presents, I gave everyone something I acquired from my journeys. I gave Danny gold coins.

"Is that real gold?!"

"'Tis indeed—from the Spaniards themselves."

Danny gave me my present. He crafted a handheld ship from splinters of wood.

"You remembered!" I used to tell Danny about my ideal ship if I were captain. It looked just like I envisioned, much like the _Susan Constant_ herself.

I went to Alford with Danny the following Market Day. Apparently, I was becoming somewhat of a hero, as stories of my adventures made their way throughout Lincolnshire.

"Did you really slay a group of poachers?"

"Well, not on my own. I had help from a friend."

"Of course John couldn't slay them on his own." Even Adam wanted to provide his input. "Perhaps he could if he had half the strength I have."

"Is that so?" I grabbed him by the neck and pulled out my sword, not to harm him but to scare him. "I've dealt with men who are bigger than you." I let go of him, and he quieted down after my old schoolmates laughed at him.

Another person I hoped to see, but didn't, was Sarah. Her friends told me she was visiting other relatives in another part of England.

I wanted Danny to come to London and meet my other friends on my birthday. Danny hadn't been to London, but he seemed interested in seeing it. Arch met us at Kenny's. He was quiet around them, but seemed a little more comfortable by the time Bart arrived.

"Hello, chaps! I wasn't certain I could make it, though I cannot stay all evening. The Missus and I are visiting family in London, and are expecting me for supper." He turned to my other good friend. "You must be Danny. John has mentioned you."

"Likewise, you must be Bart."

We planned on going to the Theatre to see _The Blind Beggar of Alexandria. _Danny seemed impressed by the liveliness, but I could tell it was also a bit overwhelming for him. It didn't help that the Theatre itself was in a bad area, though Kenny helped us avoid certain parts.

I was glad I convinced Danny to wear my good clothes to appear as gentry, or else we wouldn't be able to sit in the gallery as my comrades would. We could have gotten in trouble, but sitting high was certainly better than being in the pit, as I was able to watch every detail.

While we joked about the play, afterward, I noted a familiar woman hailing a carriage a ways off from the Theatre. _What could she be doing out here? Did she live in London?_

"Smith!" Arch interrupted my thoughts. "We're headed to the Boar's Head." I wanted to make an excuse to head home. I knew Danny didn't drink.

"Come now, Smithy, what is one tankard? I'll even buy one for you," Kenny offered.

Of course, one drink lead to another. Even Danny acquiesced to a few. All I remember is carousing on top of the tables at one point, and pulling Kendall away from a fight with a man who apparently owed him money from the last round of Twenty-One. After Danny vomited, it was high time to head home.

When Danny and I made our way back to Willoughby, and changed into regular clothes, we talked it over at my house in the morning. I missed these days when Danny and I could just chat.

"So many buildings so close together! So many people, Johnny! I've run into more people on Cheapside than in our entire village! How do you keep from getting lost?"

"'Twas rough at first, but in time, with some help, I've learned my way around the City. Cheapside is near my favorite part of London: the ports are nearby, and we're right in the middle of it all. I hope to move down there. 'Twould be much easier for traveling."

"Is that so? What becomes of your house?"

I thought for a moment. "I haven't fully decided, but I would like to keep the house. There are so many memories here... ." A part of me wondered about my own siblings this season, but no one around town had heard from them since they moved over the summer, to who knew where. I would have hoped they'd at least know I was alive. "Perhaps I'll rent it for a while, to acquire a bit more income." Danny was quiet. I could tell he was a bit disappointed. "Of course, I could use a roommate... ."

"'Twould be great to live down there, though I'm not certain I could handle city life as you might, Johnny."

I laughed, remembering a time when we weren't even school age, he thought we were lost at the Alford Market, because there were so many people. I would've liked for us to be roomies, but I understood. "I can still come back here to visit," I assured him."Speaking of visits, I was invited to a banquet at Bart's. I can bring a guest, which means you can come."

"I'm not sure I'd be so comfortable around so many new people, Johnny. I was surprised he personally introduced himself, but I'm not certain how the rest of his family may be."

"His brother is amicable."

"He seems to be a decent fellow. Why haven't he and the others come here?"

"I hadn't arranged for it yet... ." I knew it would be polite to invite them, but what would I have to offer them? Arch and Kenny had nice homes. I passed by one of Bart's which was equally grand and even moated. I suppose showing them around the pastures via horseback couldn't hurt... .

We sat down to relax. I took out my pipe, stuffed, lit it and puffed.

"When did you start smoking?" I must have looked annoyed at his question, because he added, "I'm merely asking."

"One of my comrades, Newport, introduced me to it. I wasn't initially fond of it, but I suppose... ." I shrugged, somewhat embarrassed that I was explaining all this. I dumped out the contents, deciding this wasn't a good time.

Perhaps sensing my discomfort, and wanting to break the silence, he asked. "Who was that woman you were watching earlier?"

"Oh." I didn't realize he noticed. "Her name is Catherine." He pressed for details. "I met her at another friend's festivity. She's a traditional blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty, gregarious, with a great sense of humor...honestly I shouldn't be thinking of her myself, though admittedly, I'm quite drawn to her."

"She is quite appealing," he agreed. "Very similar to—."

I heard knocking at the door. I opened it to find a familiar blue-eyed blonde.

"Sarah?"

"John, you are home!" She excitedly greeted me with a hug. This wasn't the greeting I was anticipating, but I graciously accepted. I suppose she wasn't upset anymore.

"Sarah, what are you doing here?" Danny asked.

"Well, I came home early, and went looking for you at your house, but your mum told me you were with John." As she pulled away, I began wondering why she'd be going there?

I pulled something out of a bag. "This is for you." It was a ruby I acquired from my travels.

"Why John," she looked over at Danny before accepting. "I'm much obliged."

"Sarah, I'll meet you at home. Johnny and I need to chat."

"I see," she sighed. "Nice to see you again, John." We embraced again before she left.

"What was that about?" I asked, trying to gauge their odd body language.

"Johnny, I meant to tell you. Sarah and I are...well...courting."

"You're what? You can't be serious." I was chuckling, but he wasn't. My mouth dropped open. "Bollocks! You _are_ serious: You and Sarah—_my_ Sarah?!"

"Well, she isn't truly 'your Sarah' anymore, Johnny," he reasoned.

"What the Bloody Hell, Danny?! 'Twas barely a year ago I was still with her!" My brows were now furrowed and teeth clenched.

"Well to be quite honest, I didn't intend for things to happen this way. I always thought she was pretty, even before you asked her, and I was quite surprised when you did. When you left, she was still so distraught, and I comforted her; and eventually, I confessed to having feelings for her. I know 'twas not long ago, but I thought, in time you would move on with your life, and by then, you wouldn't care as much."

"Why wouldn't I care about my former love being with my best friend—well, 'best friend' my arse!"

He was now taken aback. "Well, haven't you picked up the finest forms speech from your new comrades! I would've presumed men of such high standing would have more class, though the previous night proves otherwise."

"People are people, Danny."

"You and I are sons of farmers. We are servants to such men. While you may dress as them, even a yeoman should know a goat can never fit in amongst sheep. I know my place and stay. You should have learned yours."

I couldn't believe what he was saying. "Oh, D— you, Danny! D— you! Sod off!" As I opened the door and motioned for him to leave, I could see the hurt in his face.

"Gladly!" With that, he took his belongings, and walked briskly out of the house.

"S—!" I banged my head and fist against a wall. I couldn't believe what I had done, I never swore at Danny before, but I was never this upset with him, either. How could he? How could she? Danny and Sarah? When and how long had they been together? Perhaps he had probably hoped we'd go our separate ways in order for him to be with her. I know it was Sarah's right to move on...but to Danny?! Adam, perhaps.

I needed to go somewhere. I could not stay here. Why? Would they care? _Hell with them. _These people were moving on with their lives, and I needed to move on with mine. I gathered my things, hopped into a carriage, and made my way back to London.


End file.
